Digitized by the Internet Archive

in 2007 with funding from

IVIicrosoft Corporation

http://www.archive.org/details/aloneinwildernesOOknowrich

ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

c /c 1 r «

JOSKPII KNOWLES IN WILDERNESS GARB. PHOTOGRAPHED AT MEGAN-
TIC ON THE DAY HE CAME OUT OF THE WOODS, OCTOBER 4, 1913

ALONE
IN THE WILDERNESS

BY

JOSEPH KNOWLES

Illustrated from drawings on birch hark^ made by the
author in the woods with burnt sticks from his
fires^ together with photographs taken
before and after his experiences

LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO
39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON
BOMBAY, AND CALCUTTA
I914

All ria-hts reserved

sk:^^

v.

THE UNIVERSITY PRESS. CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.

To My Mother

297033

AN APPRECIATION

My wannest thanks are due to people too numerous
to mention individually, for their personal interest in
my experiment, and in particular to my good friend
Paul Waitt for his kindness in helping me in the prepa-
ration of this book for publication and for his many
valuable suggestions in regard to it.

JOSEPH KNOWLES
Boston, December 2, 1913

CONTENTS

Chapter Page

I An Idea and a Birthday i

II The First Days in the Wilderness . 19

III My First Adventure 35

IV The Rescue of the Fawn 51

V Trapping a Bear 65

VI The Mental versus the Physical . . 79

VII Wilderness Neighbors 93

VIII Fever and the Battle of the Moose 112

IX Animal Studies 127

X Killing a Deer with the Hands . . 145

XI Wilderness Adventures 159

XII More Wilderness Adventures . , . ^ 177

XIII The World and the Wilderness ... 193

XIV Trapping and Woodcraft 209

XV The Value of the Experiment ... 224

XVI Concerning the Boy Scouts 239

XVII Nature and Art 254

XVIII The Inside Story of the Canadian

Trip 269

XIX The Future 286

ILLUSTRATIONS

Joseph Knowles in wilderness garb. Photographed
at Megantic on the day he came out of the woods,
October, 4, 19 13 Frontispiece

PACING PAGE

Joseph Knowles as he appeared a month before
entering the woods 4

Preparing to enter the wilderness 12

Breaking the last link. Entering the woods at the
foot of Spencer Trail, August 4, 19 13 20

The doe at Lost Pond. The first sketch drawn by
the author during his two months in the wilder-
ness. Done on birch bark with burnt sticks from
his fires 26

The author demonstrating fire-making by friction
with crude material. Posed shortly before he
entered the woods 44

Rear view of one of the author's lean-tos in the Bear
Mountain country. Found and photographed by
outsiders after the author had left 50

The deer and the white fawn. A sketch made in the
woods by the author on birch bark, with burnt
sticks from his fires 58

Cache where the author left messages and sketches
for the outside world 62

Wild-cat watching deer and fawn. Drawn by the
author in the woods on birch bark, with burnt
sticks from his fires 70

Dream picture of the outside world. Drawn in the
woods by the author on birch bark, with burnt
sticks from his fires 82

ILLUSTRATIONS

rAC3NG PAGE

The little fawn. Drawn by the author in the woods
on birch bark, with burnt sticks from his fires . gS

Beaver at work. Drawn by the author in the woods
on birch bark, with burnt sticks from his fires . io6

The battle of the moose. Sketch made by the
author in the woods on birch bark, with burnt
sticks from his fires 120

A birch-bark message to the outside world, written
by the author in the woods with burnt sticks
from his fires 140

The author's first shoes, made of the inner lining
bark of the cedar 150

A glimpse of the Spencer country in Northern Maine 164

Calendar (in center) , birch-bark dishes and drinking
cups, found in the woods after the author had left.
The calendar he lost several days before he left for
Canada, but it was found by others afterward . 196

A sketch done by the author in the woods on a piece
of fungus with burnt sticks from his fires ... 216

Dr. Dudley A. Sargent of Harvard examining the
author at his office in the Hemenway Gymnasium,
shortly after the author came from the wilderness 232

Implements made in the woods by the author and
used by him during his experiment. A sketch
made by the author in the woods on birch bark,
with burnt sticks from his fires 250

The author greeting his mother at Wilton, Maine,
after he had completed his experiment .... 260

Game wardens escorting the author to Attean Camps
after his return to civilization. From left to right,
Mr. Pendelton, Mr. Comber, Mr. Durgin, Mr.
Wilcox 276

A portion of the crowd that greeted Joseph Knowles
on his arrival in Boston, October 9, 1913 . . . 290

ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

CHAPTER I

AN IDEA AND A BIRTHDAY

On the Saturday afternoon of October fourth,
nineteen hundred and thirteen, just at the time
^vhen sunshine marked the end of two days'
heavy rain, I emerged from the Canadian for-
est on the shores of Lake Megantic, having lived
the life of a primitive man for two months in
the wilderness of northern Maine.

I was tanned to the color of an Indian. I
had a matted beard, and long, matted hair. I
was scratched from head to foot by briers and
underbrush.

Over the upper part of my body I wore the
skin of a black bear, which I had fastened
together in front with deerskin thongs. My
legs were incased in crudely tanned deerskin
chaps, with the hair inside. On my feet I
wore moccasins of buckskin, sewed together with
sinew. I wore no hat. On my back was a
pack, made from woven lining bark of the

2 AliON^ IJsT tHte WILDERNESS

cedar, in which I carried various implements
from the forest.

I had a rude bow and arrows, and a crude
knife, made from the horn of a deer, dangled
at my waist.

It was thus that I entered the little French-
Canadian town of Megantic — back to the
civilized world.

I received a welcome that I had not dreamed
of, and I was very happy, for it proved to me
at that time that the people were really in-
terested. However, as the hours went on,
I began to realize that they considered that I
had done a wonderful thing.

It is because of this impression, which seems to
have taken hold of many people since my re-
turn, that I will begin this narrative by saying
that it was not wonderful. Above all else I
want to emphasize that my living alone in the
wilderness for two months without clothing,
food, or implements of any kind was not a
wonderful thing. It was an interesting thing;
but it was not wonderful.

Any man of fair health could do the same
thing, provided he meant business and kept
his head. But, to the best of my knowledge,
no other man in the history of civilization ever
did what I did; and for that reason the people

AN IDEA AND A BIRTHDAY 3

are marveling at it. To be sure, doing a thing
for the first time has its usual and mysterious
side; but it is not necessarily wonderful.

The idea of this experiment came to me about
a year ago, while I was spending a few weeks
at Bradford, Vermont. At the time I was
painting pictures of outdoor life in a little log
cabin on what is known in that locality as Sad-
dleback Mountain. I was painting a moose,
and, as I added a touch of color to the canvas,
I began to wonder how many people would
notice that particular bit of color, which, from a
standpoint of faithful portrayal, was as impor-
tant as the eye of the creature itself.

From this thought my mind wandered on
to the realization that the people of the present
time were sadly neglecting the details of the
great book of nature.

And, as I thought, I forgot the picture be-
fore me. I said to myself, " Here, I know some-
thing about nature. I wonder if it would not
be possible for me to do something for the
benefit of others.''

Then I would laugh at the idea of my doing
anything for the world! Probably all of us
have wild dreams now and then. I am begin-
ning to think that wild dreams are wonderful
things to have. I have always hoped^ more

4 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

than anything else, that I might sometime do
something which would benefit mankind, even
in a small way.

The idea of ''nature and myself" stuck in my
mind, and I began to wonder what I might do
to turn the attention of the public back to
nature. I knew that art appealed to only a
part of the people. I could n 't do it by art
alone; no one ever had. A new impetus was
needed.

I believed there was too much artificial
life at the present day in the cities. I found
myself comparing our present mode of living
with the wild rugged life of the great outdoors.
Then, all of a sudden, I wondered if the man
of the present day could leave all his luxury
behind him and go back into the wilderness
and live on what nature intended him to have.

In that thought came the birth of the idea.

That night I went down to the hotel in Brad-
ford and began talking it over with several of
my friends. At first they all laughed at the
absurdity of a man of to-day going back to
the life of the primitive man of yesterday.
I remember, as we sat around the fireplace,
they asked me all kinds of questions.

I told them that in order to make such an
experiment interesting it would be necessary

JOSEPH KNOWLES AS HE APPEARED A MONTH BEFORE ENTERING

THE WOODS

AN IDEA AND A BIRTHDAY 5

for a man to enter the woods entirely naked,
without even a match or a knife, and live a
stipulated time without the slightest communi-
cation or aid from the outside world.

'* What would you do for fire? " one man asked
me.

I replied to that very quickly.

Another wanted to know what food I would
be able to get in the wilderness and how I would
get it without weapons. I mentioned a dozen
ways.

Then the conversation became like a game.
Every one wanted to see if he couldn't stick
me in some way.

That night I could n 't think of a single
thing that would keep me from undertaking
such an experiment.

In the busy days which followed I promptly
forgot all about the idea, just as nine tenths
of all ideas are forgotten. Not until the be-
ginning of last summer did the thought take
hold of me again.

From time to time my friends would jokingly
inquire when I was going to leave them and
become a wild man.

Then, all of a sudden, it hit me hard. An-
other mood seized me like the one I had felt
in the cabin while painting the picture of

6 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

the moose. I said — and this time I meant
it — *'I'll try this stunt, and demonstrate to the
people that there are marvelous things to
be derived from life in the great outdoors."

When I told my friends that I really was
going to try the experiment during the months
of August and September they became serious
indeed. They were not joking now, when they
cried, '^Do not think of such a thing!'' They
reminded me that it might be easy enough
to answer all their theoretical questions satis-
factorily; but to actually find fire and food
and clothing would be impractical and, in-
deed, utterly impossible.

But my mind was fully made up. I left Brad-
ford immediately for Boston, to make prepara-
tions for the trip. By preparations I do not
mean that I went back to the city to train
for the trip. I went to Boston simply to dis-
cuss with other friends the plans that were in
my mind.

First of all it was necessary for me to choose
a location for the experiment. This was some
task, inasmuch as I desired to enter a wilder-
ness far away from civilization, where I would
not be bothered by people from the outside
world.

Finally I decided that I would go into the

AN IDEA AND A BIRTHDAY 7

forest on the fourth of August, in what is
known in the northwest Maine country as
the Dead River Region.

This country is covered with heavy black
growth timber. Directly north is Bear Moun-
tain, below which stretches Spencer Lake.
To the east is Little Spencer, with Heald Moun-
tain just beyond. Horseshoe Pond and the
Spencer Stream lie to the southward, and the
domain is bounded on the west by King and
Bartlett Lake.

I selected this particular time for the ex-
periment because I wanted it to be the most
severe kind of a test.

I was handicapped by civilization's habits
and comforts: my skin was not tough; my
muscles were not firm; and my stomach was
used to seasoned and well-cooked food.

However, I still retained my knowledge of
the woods, and it was on that alone I placed
dependence. It is in the mind, I claim, the mind
that has been trained to know nature, that
the spark of complete independence is retained
down through the ages.

As August fourth drew near some of my clos-
est friends literally begged me to abandon
the idea. They warned me that I might be-
come ill and wreck my future health, or even

8 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

lose my life, and all that kind of talk. They
were good to me, and I appreciated their feel-
ings, but I knew they did not understand.

I knew better. I was confident.

I left Boston for Bigelow, Maine, which is
the end of the railroad in that part of the
country. From there I took the stage for
eight miles to Eustis, a village of fifty inhab-
itants, situated on the edge of the forest.

Then came something worse than living
two months alone in the forest — a ride for
sixteen miles over the King and Bartlett buck-
board trail. The terminus of this road brought
me to the King and Bartlett Camps, where I
stayed until I entered the wilderness.

Directly in front of these camps is the King
and Bartlett Lake. It was a mile across to
the opposite shore, where, in the presence of
professional men and sportsmen who were stop-
ping at the camps in the vicinity, I disrobed
and started for the wilds, leaving my clothes
behind and taking absolutely nothing with me.

Presently I will relate my struggles for exist-
ence during those first few days, but first I.
want to mention one morning when I awoke
with a flood of sunshine pouring into my lean-
to and mark the tenth notch in my calendar
stick. That made it August thirteenth, and

AN IDEA AND A BIRTHDAY 9

it suddenly dawned on me that this was my
birthday. Then the thought came to me that
my mother would know it was my birthday, and
in that thought it seemed to me as if, for the
first time, my early life and memories mobi-
lized and passed in review before me, while
I sat gazing off between the trees.

I saw the old-fashioned house in the forest
clearing in Wilton, Maine, where I had been
born just forty-four years ago that day. I saw
myself as a boy, living in poverty and being
forced to do things for myself.

It seemed, sitting there in the sunshine, as
if a blizzard were raging off there, among the
trees, and through the whirl of snow I could see
my mother coming out of the woods with a load
of wood on her back, just as she had done
many years ago. Never until that day did
I realize what my mother had done for me. It
was she who had taught me about the woods
and the animals.

I remembered what a hard time father had
had after he had come home from the Civil
War, crippled and unable to help support the
family.

My mother was born in the wilds of Canada,
near the Indians, and is the most coura-
geous person I ever met. In those days of

10 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

privation in Wilton she alone supported the
whole family for ten years. There were father,
my two brothers, my sister, and I.

In winter she would haul the wood from the
forest to keep us warm. In summer she would
pick berries and walk six miles to the village
to sell them. She wove baskets, made mocca-
sins, and took in work from the people of the
village to make both ends meet.

I fancied I could see her smiling face that
birthday morning as I lay naked on the ground.

One vivid memory came to me of the day
when we had been snowed in for some time
and all mother could find for us to eat was one
solitary turkey egg. It was n't very much for
a hungry family of six, but she was equal to
the occasion. She took the last of some flour
she had and made up a batter. This concoc-
tion was all we had to eat for three days. Mother
did n't take a mouthful during that time, al-
ways maintaining that she wasn't hungry!

While such thoughts made me a bit home-
sick, as I lay there alone, I remembered that
my mother had no use for a quitter.

My back door led right into the woods. I
could not go outside of the house without run-
ning into them. I used to play among the trees,
and when I saw a strange animal I would rush

AN IDEA AND A BIRTHDAY 11

toward home to ask mother what it might
be. She would make me describe it; and,
when I did, she always knew what it was.
Then she would tell me all about the life and
habits of that animal, so that soon I knew
all the wild creatures that haunted the wilds
about us.

One particular incident of that childhood past
came to my mind. One day, while playing
in the woods, it occurred to me that I was
old enough to be a hunter — I was ten years
old at the time. So I walked back to the house
and got the old family gun out. The gun was
longer than I was, but I managed to drag it
into the woods with me.

About eight feet of snow covered the ground.
I had on my father's old slippers, which acted
like snowshoes on the crust. Hardly had I
lost sight of the house when I heard a noise
above me in a tree. Looking up I saw something
dark moving in the branches.

My first thought — I remember it to this
day — was to run, but I got my courage up and
at the same time managed to lift the gun to
my shoulder and fired. Not a sound came from
the animal in the tree, but in a moment my
hair stood on end to see the creature come
backing slowly down the trunk!

n ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

I let out a yowl, dropped the gun, tripped
in the big slippers, and fell face downward on
the crust. But I was up again in a flash,
dashing away toward home, and leaving the
slippers behind on the snow.

When I reached the door I fell flat on my
face and howled. Mother and father came
rushing out to see who had been killed.

" There ^s a bear after meP' I shrieked.

With that, my father limped down the
steps and, giving me a little shake, cried out,
"Don't you tell such a lie as that. The bears
are all in their dens at this time of year!'*

Mother calmed him and helped me to my
feet. "Now let's find out just what it was,"
she said.

When I blurted out the part where the
animal backed down the tree she assured me
that it was no bear, but a hedgehog!

They knew that hedgehogs look very much
like bear cubs at night, so they did n 't get after
me any further.

I laughed out loud there alone in the forest
that thirteenth of August as these recollec-
tions flittered across my mind, but I quickly
sobered again at the remembrance of my
running away from home. I ran away to go
to sea when I was a boy of only thirteen years.

PREPARING TO ENTER THE WILDERNESS

AN IDEA AND A BIRTHDAY 13

During the long winter evenings, father, who
had seen something of life in his earlier days,
used to tell us fascinating stories of the sea
and the full-rigged ships that sailed across the
ocean. Those stories got me. For six months
I planned to go to sea; and one night, after
father had scolded me for not working in the
field with the other boys, I left the house quietly
and went out into the night. I walked all the
way to Portland. It took me two' whole days.

The first thing I saw on arriving in that
great city was a vessel just about to sail from
one of the wharves.

I went the rounds of the various wharves
asking for a job, but my size was against me
and I was turned down everywhere. I was
discouraged and homesick that first night in
a big city. I had n't had anything to eat since
leaving home and had nowhere to sleep.

I left the docks and started up the railroad
tracks looking for some place to sleep. Luck
was with me in this respect, for I soon came
to an old barn in a field by the side of the
railroad tracks. I crept inside and dropped
down on the hay and fell asleep immediately.

When I awoke the sun was shining through
the barn door. Looking off toward Portland
I could see the masts along the waterfront.

14 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

I gazed off up the tracks toward Wilton. I
was hungry and homesick, but, nevertheless,
when once more I turned my eyes to the sea
it was all sea again for me. So I trotted along
toward the wharves. All that day I met
disappointment. Not one of the captains
would give me a job.

It was my third day away from home and
I had not eaten a thing. Again that night
I went back to the shelter of the barn, but
before I fell asleep I firmly resolved to go home
as soon as it was daylight.

When morning came I started on my way
toward Wilton. I did n 't feel the hunger so
keenly now, and as I walked along it came into
my mind that I had heard that a man could
go nine days without eating. Already I had
been away from home three days. It would
take two more to reach Wilton, which would
leave four more before I actually starved to
death, I figured.

However, I did not go back home that day.
I discovered, moored to one of the wharves, a
two-topmast schooner, which had n't been there
the day before. ''I'll take one chance at her,
and then, if there's nothing doing, I'll go
home," I said to myself.

As I approached the craft I could see mem-

AN roEA AND A BIRTHDAY 15

bers of the crew unloading merchandise. Close
by, on a keg of salt mackerel, sat ^a gray-
whiskered old man, who occasionally shouted
something to the busy men about him.

^^He's the feller," I reasoned.

"It's a great day, ain't it!" I greeted, com-
ing nearer.

"What of it!" was his curt reply.

This unexpected answer didn't phase me.
I had too much at stake.

"Oh, nothing much," I continued. "I
just had to say something."

"Why did you have to say something?"
he demanded, looking steadily at me.

" 'Cause I'm looking for a job," I put in
quickly.

"Huh?" grunted the captain, for it was in
truth he. " What can you do? "

I had n't the least idea. But even that day
in the wilderness, looking back after all those
years, I seemed to see the steering wheel of
that vessel.

"I can steer a ship," I answered, believ-
ing for the moment that I really could.

"Did you ever go to sea before?"
. "No, sir."

"Well, how do you know you can steer a
ship then?" he demanded.

16 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

Just while I was hopelessly floundering around
for a good reason, the cook came out of the
cabin with a bucket in her hand and asked
the captain to send someone for fresh water at
the hydrant at the head of the wharf. I was
the nearest to him, so he sent me for the water
and told me I could make the trip with him.

At last I was going to sea! I was a real
sailor! And, at least, I would get something
to eat!

I made a few trips on the coast on that
schooner. One day the jib blew away in a
squall. The mate called me a *4and lubber,"
and other choice names, which aren't fit to
be printed, and the upshot of it was that I
quit the ship. I landed at Portland with two
ten-dollar bills in my pocket, the first money
I had ever had in my life, and started at once
for home.

First I bought the whole family presents.

What a joyful home-coming it was!

Father was down to the village when I ar-
rived. He came in later, while I was relating
my adventures to my mother. When he caught
sight of me — the runaway son — he stood
still a moment, looking at me. Then, without
a word, he went into the next room. That
hurt more than any licking he had ever given me.

AN IDEA AND A BIRTHDAY 17

That night, two hours after entering the
house, I crept down stairs and ran away again,
just as I had done the year before.

This time I was gone for a number of years.

At first I went back to the coasters. Then
I shipped aboard the deep water ships. I tra-
veled nearly all over the world. Later I entered
the United States Navy, where I served enlist-
ments for a number of years. After that
I decided I would like to try sailing on the
fresh-water lakes. So I left the coast and
sailed on the Great Lakes for another twelve
months.

It was while I was in that country that I
became acquainted with tribes of Sioux and
Chippewah Indians. They were scattered all
along the west coast of Michigan. I gave
up the sailing and went among them. That
year I went back into the mountains and
hunted and trapped with them. Of course,
I picked up valuable knowledge about the
woods under these conditions.

It was remarkable to me, as I reflected there
in the forest on my forty-fourth birthday, how
the smallest details of my past life camt back
to memory. It seemed as if in those first
few days the cobwebs were wiped away from
my brain, revealing thoughts which were com-

18 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

pletely forgotten. It seemed as if I had never
thought clearly before. I confess I was just
a trifle homesick.

I reached out and ripped a piece of fungus
from a tree close by, and began sketching on
its smooth white surface a crude picture of
my lean-to, as I had often done for hunters
from the city, who told me I should make the
most of such a talent.

That was the way I started my art work.
I just drew the things I saw around me in the
forest. I never went to an art school, but I
studied the works of successful artists, and won
what success has been mine through my own
efforts.

The fascination of the panorama of the
past that unfolded itself before me that birth-
day morning made me quite forget to eat.
The sun, peeking down through the trees
from high overhead, told me that hours had
gone by.

I rose and started for the burnt lands after
berries.

CHAPTER II

THE FIRST DAYS IN THE WILDERNESS

To go back to the beginning of my life
in the wilderness, heavy skies and a steady
drizzle of rain greeted me on the morning of
August fourth, when I awoke in the King
and Bartlett Camps. However, the weather
didn't bother me.

The sportsmen and professional men who were
interested in my departure joked with me,
and laughingly said that they would see me
back again that night. Everyone was in the
best of spirits.

Shortly after nine o'clock we all left the
camps for the opposite side of King and Bart-
lett Lake.

The drizzle had increased to a steady down-
pour, and the brown suit of clothes which I
wore became wet through.

The time for my entering the forest was
about ten o'clock.

The boats landed at the foot of what is
known as the Spencer Trail, which rises straight

19

20 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

up the side of Bear Mountain and winds
its way up over the crest and down the other
side for five miles through the woods to Spencer
Lake.

"Here's your last cigarette," cried someone,
offering me the smoke as I began to take off
my clothes.

I took it and lit it, and then went on undress-
ing. Presently I stood naked.

I took two or three final puffs of the cigarette,
tossed it to the ground, and began to shake
hands with everyone.

My body was already glistening with the
rain but it did n't bother me any.

I waved my hand as a last farewell to human
companionship for two months, and started
up the trail. At the top of the incline, where,
in another moment, I would be out of sight
among the trees, I paused and waved once
more to the waiting crowd below. Then I
struck out straight along the trail.

I had left civilization!

I don't remember a great deal of that five-
mile trip. My mind was filled with all kinds
of thoughts. I kept saying to myself, "I shall
keep on going straight ahead into the woods,
where I shall not see anyone or talk with any-
one for two months." Then the realization

n^tr:-:^

FIRST DAYS IN THE WILDERNESS 21

would come over me that what food and com-
fort I obtained would have to come through
my own resourcefulness.

By now I had reached the ridge of Bear Moun-
tain and swung along down the other side,
where I easily recognized the lay of the land,
though I had not seen it for ten years. Pres-
ently I saw the surface of Spencer Lake
through the trees below me.

In order to avoid the Twin Camps I swung
off the trail to the right, crossing over dead-
falls and plunging through the tangled under-
brush.

When I reached Spencer Lake I looked across
that sheet of water, with its background of
endless trees that rose up, up, up, and then to
the sky line, way beyond, and saw a rugged
picture. The sweep of rain hung like a filmy
curtain between me and the distant mountain
forest, softening the lights and shadows of
everything.

For fully fifteen minutes I stood there in the
rain and studied that wild stretch of nature.
Three ducks flew around in a circle over the
water.

I wasn't cold even then. Unconsciously
I began to walk slowly along the Spencer shore,
wondering just what I should do first.

n ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

To save my life I couldn't seem to make
any connected plans. So I wandered aimlessly
along for some time, finally reaching a point
some distance below the Kempshall Camp.

Then I faced the heavy growth of woods and
plunged in. I had no particular destination;
I was just going anywhere.

Perhaps I had gone two miles when I found
myself in a spruce thicket. By now the after-
noon was well along, and I hadn't done a
thing but wander about!

I had thought about building a fire, but saw
there was little chance with everything dripping
wet about me. However, I decided to make a
try. First I hunted for a good piece of pine
root to be used as a base; then a stick for a
spindle. Next I ripped off a piece of bark of
the cedar. I tore the inner bark into small
strips, which I braided into a kind of rope.
This I looped about the spindle, tying the ends
to a bow-stick I had snapped off a dead tree.

I had to get my fire through friction, caused
by whirling the spindle on the pine base by
sawing back and forth with my crude fire-bow.

In vain I hunted in every crevice and log
for dry punk. Everything was soaked through.
I then saw the absolute foolishness of it all,
and straightway gave up the task.

FIRST DAYS IN THE WILDERNESS 23

It was now dark, and here I was in this
spruce thicket, without food or fire, naked, and
miles from a camp.

I made up my mind that I would stay out
one night anyway, even if I went back and
caUed the stunt off early in the morning.

I found a place where I could walk back and
forth a bit to keep warm, so I started in.
With the darkness the air grew colder. The
rain continued, unabated. I ran back and
forth until I was tired and breathing heavily.
Then I would stop for a moment to rest,
sitting down on the wet ground with my back
against a tree. Of course, I could n 't sit there
very long without catching cold, so after a
little I would get up and begin walking
again.

I must have run miles that night, in that
little space in the spruce thicket. I would
stop to rest, only to start walking again.

It must have been early the next morning,
about three o'clock, I guess, when it began to
get very cold. The rain had stopped. I in-
creased my pace back and forth. Thus run-
ning and resting I spent the first night alone in
the wilderness.

Daylight came very slowly, but with it I
was on the move.

24 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

Not a thought had I given to food since I
entered the forest. I wasn't hungry.

I struck a natural game trail and followed it
along, not knowing where I was going.

Presently it began to rain again, and, while
I got used to it later, I did not welcome it just
then. My thoughts were the same jumbled
thoughts of the day before.

As I roamed along, my resolve to leave
the forest and call the experiment off did
not figure particularly in the morning's
mood. I somehow didn't care where I was
going. And I did not feel the cold to any great
degree.

At last I reached Lost Pond. I had never
seen it before, although years ago I had been
well acquainted with the country thereabouts,
and knew this must be it. It looked very
small to me, and for a moment I wondered
if it really were Lost Pond.

Out in the open it was still raining hard.
As my eyes wandered across the pond it seemed
good to see distance instead of just trees. I
wanted to put my hands in my pockets to en-
joy the picture better, but I did n't have any
pockets to put them in. Nothing in that view
escaped me that day. I saw the sky, the
trees, and the opposite shore.

FIRST DAYS IN THE WILDERNESS 25

It helped break the monotony of that dark
rainy day.

I never knew what I went to that pond for,
but I think there is something that draws a
man or an animal to a place of relief in the
woods — any opening, any sheet of water, or
spring, or anything that is different from the
miles and miles of trees which become so
tiresome.

People have many different ideas of the defi-
nition of the word monotony. True monot-
ony means a tree and a tree and a tree, and
then some more of the same kind of trees over
and over again. It means the same lay of the
land over and over again.

In the midst of this monotony of trees, some-
times the game trail will suddenly lure you into
an opening, as, unconsciously, I had been
carried to Lost Pond this particular morning.

In case there is no clearing or sheet of water
in the country round about, the most natural
thing is to climb to the highest peak you can
find, where the great open sweep above the
timber offers a different kind of a picture.

Scarcely had my eyes traveled to the op-
posite shore when I noticed a beaver dam
a little to the left of me. Signs of activity
were there and I saw fresh cuttings.

26 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

The rain seemed to be increasing. I saw
a deer on the opposite shore and I thought
how comfortable she looked. Then I thought
how easy it would be to make plans to catch
that deer, or any other deer that came down
to the water. I envied her her hide that morn-
ing, I can tell you!

Then there came into my mind my promise
to live within the game laws of the State of
Maine. It made me sore to remember
how the Fish and Game Commission had re-
fused me a permit to kill the game I actually
needed. They had a perfect right to grant
that permit, according to law; but they didn't
see fit to.

I grew revengeful at this thought, because,
under the circumstances, my lot would be ever
so much harder than that of the primitive man
of old. The first men of the forest were not
handicapped by laws from an outside civilized
world! If the game authorities had given me
that permit my life would have been more com-
fortable during those first few days in the
wilderness.

I did n 't wish to harm that old doe across the
lake, but, at the same time, I realized that her
skin would have been a godsend to me just
then.

H H

ji pq

Q W

J

>^ w^ s

^ W Ph

H o a

W O o

o ^ §

O H Ph

w
w

H

FIRST DAYS IN THE WILDERNESS 27

As it was, I waved my hand toward her,
shouting, "Go ahead, old girl! I'll get along
some way.'' Then I turned my steps toward
the beaver dam, and left the old doe standing
there alone.

There were many deer tracks in the
runways.

The rest of this day was uneventful. I
hadn't got my balance yet. My thoughts
were still confused. As yet I did not feel
any hunger, so made no efiforts to get food,
though I had n 't eaten anything since break-
fast at the King and Bartlett Camps just before
I entered the forest.

I simply wandered around, not caring where
I went. Because of the cold and rain I started
back early along the trail for the spruce thicket,
where I had spent the night before.

Another attempt at making a fire proved
unsuccessful.

The second night was a repetition of the
first, spent in alternately walking back and
forth and resting. I didn't suffer terribly,
but it was not altogether comfortable out
there without any clothes.

With the morning came the sunshine. As I
came out into the clearing, the sun felt good
on my body.

28 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

I hunted round till I found a partly shaded
spot, in among the trees. I needed sleep
more than anything else just then, so I lay
down, and in the warmth of the morning sun
forgot everything for a couple of hours.

When I awoke I felt the pangs of hunger
for the first time.

I crossed over the beaver dam, and followed
down the outlet of the pond, keeping my eyes
open for shallow pools, where, perhaps, I
might land some trout.

I was headed for the burnt lands in search
of my first food. I knew that I should be able
to find berries there in abundance.

The burnt lands are those parts of the forest
which have been swept by fire. The land is
open and full of charred tree trunks, here and
there. Blueberries can always be found in
such land.

On I went until I reached Little Spencer,
on the other side of which lay the burnt
lands.

I came upon bush after bush loaded with
blueberries and raspberries. I gathered a
handful and ate them.

After I had eaten my fill, I headed for the
thicker woods, where, with the help of sharp
stones, I peeled some birchbark from the

FIRST DAYS IN THE WILDERNESS 29

trees. Folding the bark into cornucopias,
and pinning the overlaps with splint sticks,
I soon had two berry-dishes. These I took
back to the berry-patch and filled to over-
flowing, storing away the food for future
need.

Once more I headed toward Little Spencer,
but this time I followed the outlet, earnestly
hoping to land a trout. At last I came to a
shallow pool, in which I managed to round
up a couple of trout.

The fish had come up stream seeking the
cooler waters of the springhole, and I simply
shut the hole in from the stream by lower-
ing the water. With a little patience I dis-
patched the trout with a stick.

I was still pretty much in the open of the
burnt lands, and the sun was already begin-
ning to burn my tender back and shoulders.
I knew that I must tan my body gradually,
or else I would suffer a great deal of pain
and inconvenience. So I left the open for
the shaded timberland, where I lay down and
soon fell fast asleep. When I awoke it was
late in the afternoon.

My first thought was of a fire and shelter
for the night. A short distance away from
where I had slept I found a spring. Here

so ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

was the place for a camp, so I started in at
once making plans for my first home.

To begin with, I commenced to build some
kind of a shelter, which would keep the wind
away from me more or less.

I hunted around for some crotch sticks, and,
after finding two, I drove them into the ground
wide apart. Next I placed a stick across
the crotches and had my framework. Two
more dead sticks were placed slanting to
the ground, at either end, and then I began
to gather quantities of dry sticks, with which
I made a crude, slanting roof.

Over these sticks I placed fir boughs and
bark. More fir boughs were stacked up against
the sides, which were also banked with moss
to keep the wind from whistling through. The
front of this shelter was open.

When the rude structure was finished, it was
nearly dark.

During the day, the wind had dried things
quite a bit, so I began at once to try to make
a fire that would burn. This time I found
some punk in a crevice of a tree, which was
dry.

I began sawing back and forth for dear
life, and soon my efforts were rewarded by a
thread of smoke which rose from under my

FIRST DAYS IN THE WILDERNESS 31

spindle. As soon as I thought the spark was
there, I snatched up the base and blew it to-
ward the punk which I held in my other hand.
Presently I saw a spark on the punk and
nursed it carefully. Then, with a little puff,
it burst into flame! This I applied to a little
heap of other bark and punk and sticks, which
I had all ready, and soon I had my fire. It
was merry — that fire — just like a compan-
ion.

It was time to eat, so I ate most of the
berries I had brought in my cornucopias from
the burnt lands.

This simple meal was ample for me that
night, especially with the prospect of fresh
roast fish in the morning.

Just before settling down for the night,
I took the two trout I had caught and put
them in the spring to keep them cool. It
was the only refrigerator I had.

Then I went back and made up my bed.
A man who doesn't know the woods would
be surprised to learn what a really comfort-
able bed can be made by first putting down
fir boughs and then covering them with dry
leaves.

What a great comfort that fire was! I
heaped it high with wood when I first lay down

32 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

to rest, and, with an occasional replenishing,
managed to pass a comparatively comfort-
able night.

Even in the morning the coals remained,
and I soon had it burning again.

It was another fair day.

"Now for a breakfast of trout,'' I said,
as I headed for the spring down the slope
about fifty feet away. But, when I got there,
what was my consternation to find that the
fish were gone! Fresh mink tracks all about
told their own story. I had been robbed by
someone else who was hungry!

Anyway, the spring was left, so I lay down
and took a drink. Then I went back to my
lean-to and ate the few remaining berries I had
tucked away.

I decided to explore some more, so, after
banking my fire, I started off in the direction
of the burnt lands again. On the bank of
the stream I found a few roots which were
nourishing. They tasted something like cel-
ery, but I didn't like them. I went on to
the burnt lands and finished up my breakfast
with another course of blueberries.

There was one thing that had to be at-
tended to at once, and that was to make some
sort of covering for my legs. They were horribly

FIRST DAYS IN THE WILDERNESS 33

scratched and caused me a great deal of irri-
tation.

Some witchgrass growing by the stream
gave me an idea. I pulled up several handfuls,
which I bound on to my legs, tying it around
with pieces of the toughest grass.

I mourned the trout I had lost for break-
fast and determined to catch another, which
should n 't get away from me. I hunted
everywhere for a shallow pool, like the one
I had found the day before, but met with
no success.

Just as I was despairing about finding a
fish in that vicinity, I heard a splash in the
water up stream. An otter was swimming
for the shore, and in its mouth was a big trout!

I shouted at the top of my voice, at the same
time hurling a stone into the water. I
laughed as I saw the trout come floating down
the stream, belly up. The otter had dis-
appeared.

By robbing the otter I got square with
the mink. I reached camp and roasted the
trout. I can't say I enjoyed that meal. It
tasted flat without salt. However, I felt the
nourishment of it later. I needed it after my
simple berry diet.

After the repast, I sat looking into the fire

34 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

and thinking. I finally decided to abandon
the camp and strike out for a better section.

The idea of going out of the forest had left
me. I began to go about things as if I were a
part of the forest itself.

On first consideration, it might seem as
though I had wasted a lot of energy in build-
ing my lean-to for a single night. But I really
had n 't, for during my wanderings I might
find myself in that region again, and I would
know beforehand where I could find shelter.
It would be a kind of headquarters for that
particular section of the country. I had
several such before my two months were
up.

Stamping out the smouldering embers, and
taking my fire apparatus with me, I struck
off in the direction of Big Spencer Stream.

CHAPTER III

MY FIRST ADVENTURE

So far my life in the wilderness had
been very commonplace. I felt in the best
of health. I had had no adventures, though
unknown adventures were in store for me and
they were to come quickly.

One late afternoon, some time after my
arrival at Big Spencer Stream, I returned
to the burnt lands to gather berries. On the
way I stood on a slight elevation, looking
down into a small gully. From somewhere
afar came the sound of a rifle shot, which
brought back to me the thought of human
beings; but I did not dwell upon it.

I worked overtime picking berries, and
soon gathered two birchbark dishes full.

The light was beginning to fade, so I made
up my mind it was time to start for my camp,
which was some distance away. Just as I
was stepping over a charred, fallen trunk,
I heard a crash in the bushes behind me.

Whirling sharply about, I saw, down in

35

36 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

the gully below, a deer come tearing through
the brush with two bears at her heels. The
deer was evidently wounded, as she would
stagger and fall, then get to her feet again and
dash along.

The two bears looked like galloping balls
of fur. They would almost reach the deer
when she would fall; but she always man-
aged to scramble to her feet in time to keep
just out of their reach.

Instinctively I wanted to go to the aid of
the deer, but better reasoning held me back.
Even in the presence of death I experienced a
bit of joy, for I knew the bears would eventu-
ally get the deer.

The battle for life had carried the deer
and her pursuers well out into the burnt lands.
I stood close by, watching every move. I
could see that the deer was weakening. Sud-
denly one of the black fur bodies hurled
itself on to the frail creature. A bear never
seemed so powerful to me before!

Here I made my first mistake. I had been
so glad that I might be able to get a deer-
skin without breaking the game laws of the
State, that I did not stop to figure that by
waiting I might also get a bearskin. I did n't
take into consideration that when once the

MY FIRST ADVENTURE 37

deer was overcome, the two bears would fight
it out between themselves as to the possession.
I should have reasoned that they would fight,
as they did.

Scarcely had the deer ceased her pitiful
struggles, when one of the bears flew at the
other. Had they been allowed to continue,
one would surely have killed the other in that
mixup. But I was so excited I ran down into
the gully, across the open space, toward the
scene of battle. The bears saw me at once,
for in less than a second they were streaking
for the cover of the woods, leaving their prey
behind.

As I leaned over the deer, I found that the
skin had hardly been torn. High up on one
shoulder blood was streaming from a wound
made by a bullet. ^* Probably that gun shot
I heard about half an hour ago,'^ I said to
myself. No doubt some woodsman in need
of food had made an attempt to get her, even
though it was August, when deer are protected
by law.

I knew I wouldn't have time to skin the
creature that night through the slow rock-
tearing process, so I dragged the body for
some distance into the woods where I buried
it with earth, branches, leaves, and stones.

38 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

Then I went back over the ground where I
had just dragged the animal, and covered
up the tracks with leaves. The trail was com-
pletely obliterated, or at least I thought it
was, so that the bears would not find it.

It was quite dark when I started for my
lean-to, resolved to come back and skin the
deer in the morning.

As soon as the sun was up I made for the
place where I had hidden my deer. I had
one regret, that I had not made the most
of that situation the night before and ob-
tained a bearskin as well.

But soon I had something else to think
about, for, upon arriving at the spot where
I had interred the carcass, I found leaves,
branches, rocks, earth — everything scattered
about! The bears had been there before me.
I had lost even the deerskin!

I wanted that deerskin badly. I needed it.
However, it was gone, and that's all there was
to it.

I had counted a whole lot on the deer
meat also, for my food thus far had not been
very hearty, though it had answered after a
fashion.

In one of the marshes I had hit a couple
of frogs over the head, and tried eating the

MY FIRST ADVENTURE 39

hind legs. But I couldn't go the taste of
these luxuries, and never tried them again.

In the clearings and along the streams I
found plenty of raspberries and blueberries.
Getting tired of these, I ate some bunchber-
ries, which grow in scarlet clusters; also check-
•erberries and berries of the mountain ash.
Almost everywhere in the deep woods skunk-
berries were to be found. I ate a lot of these,
which contain much nutriment. These berries
are black and fuzzy, and probably receive their
name because they resemble the fur of the
skunk. They grow on high bushes. I chewed
a great deal of spruce gum.

But, as I said before, such food was not
very substantial. It was enough to get along
on for awhile, but I needed something more.
While that first trout had not been particu-
larly palatable without salt, I realized that
it had given me strength, and made up my mind
that I must get some more.

The loss of that deer meat was a great loss
indeed.

Once again I headed for the Big Spencer
Stream country. I knew or thought I knew,
where I could find some good spring holes, in
which I hoped to catch some trout. After
a long time my search was rewarded. I

40 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

found a spring hole, which was alive with
them.

I went down stream a little way, where,
with rocks, I made a small pool. Then I
went back to the big pool and began to drive
the trout into the small pool. Down they went
into my trap! All I had to do was to wade in
and just pick them up with my hands. I
gathered up as many as I thought I needed
and carried them to a rough lean-to — one
which I had thrown up the night I came
to this region from the Lost Pond district.

Doubtless people who have always fished
with a line and hook can scarcely conceive
catching fish with the bare hands. But it
is the simplest thing in the world. In some
instances, during my life in the forest, I could
have obtained barrels of fish in this manner,
had I seen fit.

I remember one day when I crossed the
beaver dam, previously mentioned. I wanted
some fish, so I promptly let the water out
of the dam. In the shallow pools were stranded
quantities of fish. I did this out of necessity,
and, as soon as I had all I needed, I immediately
dammed up the broken places so that the fish
left behind would not die.

Of course many of the fish I caught in the Big

MY FIRST ADVENTURE 41

Spencer Stream country would not have kept
very long without some sort of preparation
on my part. To cure the fish, I selected sev-
eral flat rocks and built a smoke hole with
them, in which I hung the fish on sticks to
smoke. I let them smoke for several hours,
after which they would keep for days.

When I had an abundance of raspberries
I would spread them out on pieces of birch-
bark to dry and shrivel up. In this way
I preserved many berries.

By this time I was satisfied in my mind that
I would not suffer physically from the experi-
ment. I had fire and shelter and was getting
enough to eat. Already I began to feel that
I would never again think of such a thing as
''calling it off,'' but that I should be able to
stick it out the full time. Perhaps it was
because I had the companionship of a fire.

Fire was my greatest asset in the woods,
by far. With a fire you have got about every-
thing. It would be difficult — in fact, I do
not believe a man could get along for any
length of time in the wilderness without it.
First of all, it aids you in a hundred ways.
Next, it is a comfort — a wonderful comfort.

When I made my fire bigger, I would say
to myself, ''Here, I am making room for

42 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

another fellow/' Then for hours I would sit
in front of it, thinking of my friends and of the
outside world. From time to time I would
catch myself talking out loud to myself. The
mere fact that I felt that imaginary people
were there made it so much easier to be alone.

As a comfort-producer, fire is second to
nothing in the world. As I look back on it now
it seems as if it did about everything for me.

Ofttimes I would run across a log, which was
too heavy for me to carry. I would get busy
making a fire beneath it and burn it in two.
Then, if the pieces were still too large, I would
burn them in two again, and so on, until I had
chunks light enough to carry.

I hadn't been in the forest long before
the vision of a bow and arrow danced before
me. I realized that it would of course require
a lot of patience to make such a weapon;
but I knew I could do it. Until I could ob-
tain some rawhide I knew I should have to
use the twisted lining of the inner bark of
the cedar for a string. But, such as it was,
it would be vastly better than nothing.

Here the fire came to my aid again. In the
midst of a tangle created by the uprooting of a
maple tree which as it fell had crashed into a
hornbeam, carrying it with it, I found a horn-

MY FIRST ADVENTURE 43

beam sliver which I knew was the best kind of
wood with which to make my bow. Such a
stick in the rough hasn't the slightest re-
semblance to a bow.

Then I built a fire and let the stick burn for
awhile, turning it now and then to get an even
char. With a sharp rock I would then begin
to scrape off the char, after which process
the stick would be returned to the fire until a
new char had burned. I scraped and charred
that stick until I had reduced it to one inch
in thickness. And all the while the fire had
been seasoning it nicely for me. With the
rocks I smoothed and rounded it perfectly.
When it was done I had a formidable weapon,
which aided me greatly in after days.

It would be impossible for me to enu-
merate the things fire will do for a man, if he
will only let it and steer it. It will cook his
food, as it cooked mine. If there are vicious
animals in the forest, it will keep them away.
All a man would have to do, if attacked, would
be to throw a burning brand into the bushes,
and the creature would run quickly away.
It might be starving, but it would not come
near the fire.

Again, fire made several clearings for me,
when I wanted to get rid of the tangle and

44 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

underbrush. It smoked my fish; and it even
broke my rocks. Many times I cooked my food
on heated rocks, which were perfectly clean
and very handy.

Carefulness regarding fire in the woods is a
most vital point. I have the greatest admira-
tion for the splendid forest conservation move-
ment, which has meant such great protection
to the natural world.

I deplore the inexcusable carelessness of
some men who build fires at random in the
woods, thereby destroying valuable timber.
If these offenders would only stop to con-
sider what a tree would do for them they would
be far more careful with their fires.

The tree shelters man. It gives him bark
and wood for utensils. It Offers warmth and
even food. Just as fire is a blessing, so are
the trees of the forest. However, the bless-
ing of fire can be turned into a curse very
quickly through thoughtlessness and deliber-
ate neglect. It is a good servant but a bad
master.

When I go over in my mind that eventful
life in the wilderness, I suppose I could have
pulled through some way without the aid of
fire; but I know this, that if I had been
obliged to get along without it, I would have

a • » •

THE AUTHOR DEMONSTRATING FIRE-MAKING BY FRICTION WITH
CRUDE MATERIAL. POSED SHORTLY BEFORE HE ENTERED THE WOODS

MY FIRST ADVENTURE 45

come back nothing but skin and bones. I
would actually have suffered. People who look
at fire with fear do not realize what it really
means. It is one of mankind's greatest bless-
ings.

Altogether, during the two months, I had,
perhaps, six or seven fires which I was forced
to build for protection. I would bank them and
keep them going for days at a time. One fire
I kept for ten days by covering it over with
burnt ashes and dirt whenever I left it. Some-
times I would go away all day and stay over
night, and, when I returned to the camp, I
would find a few glowing coals, with which
I 5oon built a big healthy fire.

During the last days of my first week, I
spent most my of time in the Lost Pond and
Big Spencer Stream country. I had made no
attempt to get any skins since losing the
deer, but had busied myself in many dif-
ferent ways.

My witchgrass leg-shields were not very
durable, so I set about replacing them with
something better. With sharp rocks I started
the bark on some cedar trees, and gathered a
large supply, peeling off strips right up the
tree, some of which were as long as twenty
feet.

46 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

These strips I would take back to my lean-to
in order to separate the inner bark from the
outer covering. Then I would tear the inner
bark into smaller strips.

The early training which my mother had
given me in basketry came in very handy in
those days. I began to weave long leggings
out of strips about a quarter of an inch wide.
After a time I had a pair which covered
my legs like trowsers, fastening to a belt of
the same material. I could go anywhere
with this protection, which served me well,
for a time. It was all right while it was per-
fectly dry; but when it became wet it tore
and wore out quickly.

Getting more ambitious, I took wider and
heavier strips of bark and wove a pack-basket
large enough to carry my fire-kindler and other
things I might need.

In the meantime, I had not forgotten my
art work or my diary. At various times I
got birch bark and tucked it away in which-
ever lean-to I happened to be nearest. Whit-
tling down bits of charcoal for my pencils, I
wrote down the events of the day by the
flare of the firelight at night.

I decided to go to Lost Pond early in the
morning and sketch a bit of the country where

MY FIRST ADVENTURE 47

I had seen the deer, that second day in the
forest. I did this, and drew the first of many
birch-bark pictures I made while living close
to nature in the wilderness.

That Friday night, while I was camping
in my lean-to at Big Spencer Stream, I
indulged in my first luxury — a smoke — the
first and last while I was in the woods. Up
to this time I had n 't missed smoking so
very much. I had too much else on my mind.
I just did n't think of it.

Out of mere curiosity I scraped some squaw
bark off of a bush, and, using some whitewood
leaves as a wrapper, rolled a couple of cigar-
ettes. Strange to say, so far as looks went,
I noticed but little difference in these cigar-
ettes from those I had always smoked so
many of in the city.

With a live brand I lit one, not because I
wanted to smoke particularly, but out of mere
curiosity, as I had a few idle moments to spare.
I wanted to see the smoke float up. I smoked
them both and that was the end of it. I
never tried it again. Not that they weren't
good cigarettes, but I had no desire to smoke,
living in the great outdoors.

There in the wilderness I became convinced
that smoking is nothing but a luxury. It is

48 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

a habit, and harms rather than benefits
man. Its companionship isn't worth the
smoking.

How could I think of smoking while I was
hunting food to keep away the pangs of
hunger, or fire to keep me warm? Do you
suppose the luxury of smoking came into my
mind while I was running around in that
spruce thicket those first two rainy nights?
No, indeed] Smoking was the farthest from
my thoughts.

By entering the woods I had deprived my-
self of every luxury. I knew it. I just for-
got about that part of it as soon as I came
under the shelter of the trees. I was proud to
be able to deny myself, and, as a result, feel
much stronger for it.

After smoking those two woodland cigar-
ettes that Friday night, I realized what habit
stood for in the world.

My not having cigarettes proved no great
privation. They were n't meant to be had,
there in the wilderness. They did n 't fit the
surroundings.

I had gone into the woods to see if a man
could be self-sustaining, and get along with-
out depending on civilization and his friends.
Thus early I was satisfied that he could.

MY FffiST ADVENTURE 49

To the man who has smoked cigarettes
incessantly for years, as I had, who is under
the impression that he would experience phy-
sical harm by abruptly cutting off the stim-
ulant, let me state that, while he will per-
haps be nervous and irritable for a few days,
he will gradually begin to feel better than he
has for a long time, and be glad that he is
rid of the habit. Leaving off the smoking
didn't even make me irritable or nervous; I
simply forgot it.

The morning after this cigarette dissipa-
tion was Saturday. I rose early and started
along the natural game trails in the direction
of Bear Mountain. On the way I saw a deer,
whom I talked to. She wasn't frightened,
although only a little way behind me. Part
of the time I didn't pay any attention to
her. When I stopped, she would stop; and
when I began to move, she also moved slowly
on. This continued for quite a piece.

Finally I arrived on the south side of
Bear Mountain, where I found a spring. A
little higher up on the slope of the moun-
tain was an ideal place for a camp. I de-
cided to build a first-class home without delay.
The spot was about four miles from my first
lean-to, which I had constructed back in the

50 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

woods near Lost Pond. The other lean-to
at Big Spencer Stream was only the rough-
est kind of a shelter.

At this Bear Mountain lean-to I hit upon
a plan which would save me much bother at
night. Up to now, during the night, when
the weather was cold, I had been forced to
move around and replenish my fire whenever
it burnt low. Now it occurred to me to build
a kind of skid leading down to the fire, on
which I could pile small logs of wood in such
a way that, when one log burnt out, it would
release another log on the skid.

I made the slanting skid with sticks leaning
from upright, crotched sticks, and, much to
my delight, the scheme worked well.

One night, when I had piled the wood care-
lessly, the whole pile took fire. But in the
long run the skid was a successful device.

I had spent nearly a whole week in the
forest. I was perfectly well and fairly com-
fortable, though I still had no clothes of
any kind.

More than anything else, I missed the sound
of a human voice. However, my first Sunday,
which would be the next day, was to bring
me company.

W3

o

W
H

<

W
W
H

O

o

^§
a §

o

Pi Ph

<

CHAPTER IV

THE RESCUE OF THE FAWN

Sunday in the forest is just the same as
any other day.

On this first Sunday of my experiment I
did one thing which I had not done before.
When I remembered to make the day's mark
on my calendar stick, instead of making a
straight line beside the other six which marked
the previous days, I scratched a cross like the
Roman numeral ten. This cross signified that
it was Sunday and the end of my first week.

As I made my way down to the spring early
that morning I knew it was Sunday morning,
and the thought came to me of how little
churches would be needed if everyone knew and
understood nature. Nature is, in truth, a
religion in herself.

At the spring I took a long draft of water,
and as I lay there drinking I caught sight
of my image upon the mirror-like surface.
I certainly was wild looking. I saw a naked
man with disheveled hair and a scraggly

51

52 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

growth of beard. I wondered if my mother
could have seen me just then whether she would
have recognized me.

Everything was very still all about me.
Occasionally the cry of a bird would be heard,
but that was all.

While I had been a bit depressed the night
before, a good rest had made my spirits rise
again.

I scooped up handfuls of the water and
dashed it over my face and body. It was
deliciously cool, and brought a glow to my skin.

I felt strong enough to pull up a tree by
the roots. I was far stronger than I was the
day I entered the forest. Certainly the ex-
periment was aiding me physically, thus far.
I knew this by the way I felt. If a man is
all right he feels all right. When he doesn't
feel just right there is some reason for it.

I went back to my lean-to, stirred up the
fire, and sat there thinking for awhile. I
wasn't particularly hungry, so I didn't eat
anything just then, although I had a plenti-
ful supply of smoked trout and dried berries
on hand.

I never had any regular time for meals.
I just ate when I felt that I needed to eat.

By the light around me I could tell that it

RESCUE OP THE FAWN 5S

must be a bit cloudy, though there among
the thick trees I could not see the sky. I
judged it to be about six o'clock.

The day before I had injured my foot
slightly by stepping on a sharp piece of wood,
which protruded from a fallen tree. There
were still some unused strips of cedar bark
in one side of my lean-to, so I made up my
mind to try my hand at a pair of moccasins.
Using the heaviest of the bark, I wove a sort of
foot-covering. As I wove, I fitted them to my
feet. I know I had a better fit than thousands
of civilized women who walk about the city
streets in shoes with high heels and pointed
ends which squeeze their toes all out of shape.

For ties, I wove in strands of bark, which I
tied over my instep. They were clumsy to
walk in at first, but I soon got used to them,
and they were a protection for my feet. I made
several pairs.

While I was finishing off my first moccasins,
I heard a rustle in the bushes down by the
spring. I peered through the trees and saw
a red deer going down to drink. I made a
slight motion, and immediately her head shot
up. She had seen me.

I watched her a moment, and then, as if
not interested, I went on with my work. After

54 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

a short time I lifted my head and looked
again toward the spring. She was still gaz-
ing straight at me, standing transfixed.

Then I beheld an interesting thing. Farther
back, some distance in the open timber,
was a white fawn, as immovable as her
mother. The fawn was a little beauty. So
still did she stand that she looked as if
she were chiseled out of pure white marble.

I turned back to my work again, but I saw
the red deer move slowly on to the spring.
The little white fawn, however, did not budge.

As I looked again at the old doe, she scarcely
paid any attention to me. She knew that I
would not harm her. But the fawn wasn't
quite so sure.

"How are you this morning, old lady?'' I
shouted down to her. Up shot her head like
a flash. The fawn wheeled about, and bounded
back a few paces; then, seeing she was not
pursued, turned again and became once more
statuesque.

"You aren't scared of me, are you?" I
went on. Then I turned away my head and
made believe I was very busy. Presently the
animal began drinking. Then she leisurely
joined the fawn, and together they disappeared.

At almost exactly the same time the next

RESCUE OF THE FAWN 55

morning the pair appeared at the spring again.
As before, the deer watched me closely for
awhile, with one ear forward and the other
backward. The white fawn kept closer to
its mother to-day.

As the days went on, they came with marked
regularity. And it got so I could walk about
the camp and talk with them while they
drank and fed around the spring.

They were great company! The white fawn
was a beautiful creature. Such animals are
freaks of nature, and are the most persecuted
inhabitants of the forest. Their conspicuous
color is a mark for every other animal of the
woods, as well as for the hunter.

The regularity with which animals come to
places like this is most remarkable.

In the days that followed, I had many in-
teresting conversations with these woodland
creatures. Even the white fawn had grown
used to me.

There is something more to tell about
these animals, but just at present I want to
describe how I obtained a welcome change
in my diet.

Monday it had rained, on and off; but
Tuesday it began to clear and get colder. I
left my lean-to early in the morning on another

56 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

exploring expedition. I followed the trail of
least resistance, striking off occasionally into
the tangles and deadfalls to cut off a bit, and
then winding back to the same game trail,
which I knew turned in that direction. When
I say "I knew'' I do not mean that I had
seen it before. But I could tell when such
a trail would swing to the right or left by the
lay of the land.

Everything was wet about me. The woods
were of a heavy, black growth. So thick
were the trees that I could see but a short
distance up the slope of the mountain on my
left.

I made another turn in the trail, which led
down a little incline toward another spring.
I caught sight of a fox slinking off into the
bushes just beyond the spring. I gave a little
squeak to try to bring him back; but he was
too far ahead. So I kept on down to the
spring, where I rested on a fallen log.

I picked a spruce bud and began to chew it.
I chewed buds and barks a great deal dur-
ing my two months in the wilderness; and I
feel sure that for this reason alone I was able to
go for long periods without eating solid food.
There is unquestionably a great deal of
nourishment in these things. I chewed the

RESCUE OF THE FAWN 57

alder, cedar, maple, birch, and the bark of the
mountain ash.

I also ate roots which were tender and pal-
atable. Everyone knows what goldthread is.
There was a lot of this in the woods. It is
nourishing and healing for the mouth.

Sitting there on that fallen tree, I was sud-
denly aroused by another rustle in the leaves.
It was a spruce partridge. I had seen par-
tridges many times before.

I knew it would be easy to catch this bird.
The spruce partridge is the tamest bird in the
woods. It is easy to catch them. They seem
so stupid that a man can nearly walk over
them before they take flight.

While I realized the chances of going over
and picking him up were remote, I knew of
another almost sure way to get him. I made
a slip-noose of cedar lining bark, attached this
to the end of a stick, and cautiously ap-
proaching the tree on which the partridge was
perched, I carefully held the noose out in
front of him. He moved to one side, but
made no effort to fly away. His curiosity was
aroused, and he began to watch the noose
intently.

As I brought it a little nearer, without the
slightest hesitation the bird stretched his neck

58 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

forward and ran his head into the noose
and was caught.

There is nothing new in this method. Every
old woodsman and guide understands the proc-
ess.

During the weeks that followed, I killed
several partridges with my bow and arrow.
I made some arrows out of hornbeam slivers.
Then I ground some small stones into arrow-
heads, and lashed them on to the notches on
the ends of the sticks with cedar strands.

On the other end of the arrow I put feathers
from the blue heron. These feathers made the
direction of the arrow true.

Altogether I got about ten birds during the
experiment by means of the noose and my
bow and arrow.

As soon as I got back to my Bear Mountain
camp that night I got busy at once with my
first partridge. I hadn't eaten that day and
was very hungry.

Since coming back to civilization, someone
has asked me if I did n't have difficulty
in picking the bird clean. I had to laugh
at that. A partridge doesn't have to be
picked!

To prepare a partridge for roasting, all
you have to do is to make three movements

THE DEER AND THE WHITE FAWN. A SKETCH MADE IN THE WO0DS
BY THE AUTHOR ON BIRCH BARK, WITH BURNT STICKS FROM HIS FIRES

RESCUE OF THE FAWN 59

of the hand; in fact, one movement will do it.
First, you take hold of the back and breast
of the bird and tear it in two. In one hand
you will find the breast and legs, and in the
other a lot of skin and feathers. Pull the
skin down over the body and throw it away.
Having disposed of the back, head, and entrails,
you will have left the legs and breast, ready
for roasting.

After I had done this I raked over my fire,
and placed the bird on a crotch stick to roast.

In spite of having no salt, that partridge
tasted better by far than anything else I had
had to eat in the woods.

I have mentioned the lack of salt several
times already, but haven't gone into de-
tails about its not affecting me. I missed it,
and missed it greatly, but purely from a pala-
table standpoint. The lack of it seemed to
have absolutely no effect upon my physical
condition. I did n 't really need it. From
what I observed, I should say that the use of
salt is nothing more than a habit. It is used,
in my opinion, not because the system needs
it, but because it makes food taste better.

Animals, in their natural haunts, are forced
to go without salt indefinitely. I believe their
greediness, when they do find it in the salt-

60 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

licks, is due to the taste rather than to the
actual need of it.

The eating of that partridge had put me
in the mood for work. I took out some sheets
of birch bark, and sitting there in the light of
the fire began to write my diary, in which I
jotted down interesting incidents of the day.
Then I sketched a little forest scene on a piece
of fungus, and afterwards the picture of a
young doe I had seen jumping over a log.

I would have given a great deal to have my
canvas and oil tubes. I missed them greatly.
However, I could get along without them, for
everything actually needed for art was right
at hand there in the woods, if I would but
go after it. I finally did hunt up some artists'
materials; but this is for a later chapter.

The following day was Wednesday, the
thirteenth of August, and my birthday. I
shall never forget that day. It was one of
the hardest of all I spent in the forest.

It was hard because of the memories that
passed in endless array across my mind. With
those pictures of my mother and my early
life, which I have already told you about,
came memories of other birthdays of recent
years, when splendid suppers and jolly fel-
lows had been all about me.

RESCUE OF THE FAWN 61

I don't suppose in the history of civilized
man there was ever quite such a birthday.
There was no one to speak to but the red
deer with her little white fawn, and the other
small animals which came near my lean-to
in search of food.

I simply lost myself in that whirl of past
recollections, and yearned for my folks, my
friends, and the world.

A primitive man can be sentimental if he
wishes to. Even if he had never had the
outside world memories with which to make
comparisons he would find much close to
nature and in the hearts of animals to create
that mood which has moved worlds.

Finding these thoughts were getting the best
of me, I threw them off. The sun had arisen
high in the heavens. It was time for me to
be moving.

Armed with birch-bark reports and sketches
I started for the cache on the outskirts of my
domain, where I had made arrangements to
leave such things for the outside world. This
cache was known only to two guides, who came
there once a week at sundown.

I always made it a point to visit the cache
early in the day, so I would be far away by
the time the guides arrived for the birch bark

62 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

I had left. The secret hiding place was located
in the twisted roots of a blown-down spruce.

No message was ever put in for me. I had
given orders to the guides not to do this, im-
pressing upon them that anything whatever
left for me would spoil my plan of keeping
absolutely out of touch with civilization.

Some days I felt ready to come out and
call everything off; but at those critical times
something within me came to my rescue; and
I continued to stay.

The nights which followed my trips to the
cache were always hard for me. It was mental
torment to remain there alone in the wilder-
ness. The physical side was absolutely noth-
ing.

The rest of that birthday was uneventful.
I gathered some more berries, but saw nothing
of particular interest.

In fact, there was nothing worth writing
about until Friday — the fifteenth of August.
On that morning, as usual, my friends, the red
deer and the white fawn, had paid me their
daily visit.

Soon after breakfast I went after some
birch bark down at Spencer Lake. I had crossed
the Spencer Trail and was following the west-
ern shore when I heard something ahead of

RESCUE OF THE FAWN 6S

me. Looking through the bushes I saw a deer
and a fawn feeding.

I was just about to speak to them when I
saw a wild-cat sneaking along a log which hung
over the water. I stood still and watched. The
cat was watching the deer, although evidently
it did n't see me, for in a moment it backed
down the log to the shore again and sneaked off
through the bushes.

When I looked toward the place where the
deer had been I discovered that they had
gone. On my way I forgot about the incident.

Farther oh my eye was attracted to a hawk
which was flying in wide circles above the
lake. The enormous bird would occasionally
flap his great wings a few times, hang for a
moment in midair, then sail around on mo-
tionless, outstretched wings. I thought of
the aeroplane as the bird soared aloft.

All at once a scream — an unearthly scream
behind me — brought down my attention from
the skies. I never heard a scream like it
before.

As I ran back in the direction of the sound, it
came again, this time to my right. I turned
and went in that direction. After a time I
heard it once more, louder and more terrify-
ing than before, and apparently on the left

64 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

side of me. There was something horrible
about it!

Continuing to the left I found a spruce blow-
down. I jumped upon the trunk, and walked
along listening. I caught a sound from the
foliage at the farther end.

Presently through the fallen tree-tops I saw
two eyes. They disappeared in a second. Again
I heard the rustle under the tree-tops lying
on the ground, and jumping down I rushed
around to one side. There lay the little fawn
on its side, panting and bleeding.

As I drew nearer to help her to her feet the
frightened creature staggered up and ran a
few paces. But her strength was gone and she
staggered and fell.

I looked around for the mother deer, but
she was nowhere to be seen.

In a few seconds the little creature scrambled
to her feet and staggered into the thicket.

I had arrived in time to see the wild-cat
measuring the distance between the fawn and
the thicket beyond.

Going on through the trees I reached the
shore of Spencer again. The first thing that
caught my eye there was the mother deer and
the fawn swimming the narrows. They disap-
peared in the woods on the opposite shore.

CHAPTER V

TRAPPING A BEAR

That night it was colder than usual. I
began to realize that, sooner or later, I would
be forced to break the game laws and get some
sort of skins for protection.

During the day, while I was on the move,
I really didn't need anything on my body.
In fact, through the entire trip, even up to
the very last day, I went around the forest,
rain or shine, absolutely naked. But at night
I did need something for a covering.

It was also time for me to be thinking about
what I should wear when I came back to
civilization. I could scarcely return to the
world naked! I thought of the deer I had ob-
tained and then lost.

In my wanderings I had seen many signs of
bears. Once, in the burnt lands, I saw three
feeding on the berries, shortly after the deer
episode.

A bearskin would mean much to me. Then,
too, I could utilize the sinew and meat to good
advantage.

65

66 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

A man little dreams what he can accomplish
until he is put to the test. I fully believe
that necessity, coupled with determination
and confidence, makes failure impossible.

From the first moment the idea of getting a
bear came into my head I felt confident I could
trap one. I carefully went over in my mind
various ways I might make the attempt, and
when morning came I had my plan all mapped
out.

I didn't even wait that day to see if my
friends, the red deer and white fawn, would
come to the spring. I was all bear now, and
was anxious to get to work constructing a
trap.

For over an hour I walked about searching
for a suitable spot and finally found the right
place.

A deadfall was impractical, so my plan was
to build a combination pit and deadfall, much
after the plan of the Indian way of trapping
grizzly bears in the west.

Digging a pit meant a lot of work. I started
in by loosening the ground with sharp pointed
stones and hornbeam sticks. It was slow
work, but I made some progress, scooping the
earth out with flat shale from ledges.

I worked for several hours that day, return-

TRAPPING A BEAR 67

ing to my partially excavated hole the next
day and again setting to work.

I don't know how many hours I worked
on that pit; it might have been ten or fifteen
during the two or three days I kept at it.

Once during the digging I thought I should
have to give up that spot, for I came across
some heavy rock and buried, petrified wood.
It took the most arduous labor to dislodge that
rock and chip my way through the wood until
I found earth again.

At last the hole was large enough to hold a
bear, being about three and a half or four
feet deep.

I bedded two logs — one on each side — in
the earth I had scooped from the hole.

I next made a kind of deadfall over the pit
with logs and sticks, covering this with rocks
I had taken out of the hole.

Then I set a spindle trip, which resembled
the figure four, under the deadfall. This spin-
dle I baited with stale fish. I arranged the bait
quite high up so that the bear would have to
stand on his hind legs to get it.

The trap was done at last, and I was pleased
with it.

The covering loaded with rocks fitted se-
curely just inside the bed logs. This would

68 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

make it impossible to move the top from side
to side when once it was down.

I did n't get a bear that night, but the next
night as I passed by the pit I thought I heard
a rustle as if some animal were moving away
from the trap. I did n't go any nearer, because
through the trees I could just make out the
slant of the roof. It had n't been sprung
yet.

The next night I '^ looked" the trap and
found a bear in it.

While I had been confident all along that I
would be able to land a bear, there was more or
less surprise attached to the capture of this one.

Coming up to the side of the pit I saw,
through the roof-cover, a young bear, making
every effort to get out.

*^ This is great luck, " I said to myself. " Every-
thing is coming my way." There would be
the skin, and the meat, and I began to think
of everything about the animal I could use.

I made up my mind that he must not get
away from me. I can't describe to you my
feelings just then. I imagine they were some-
thing like those of a miser when there is a
possibility of his losing his gold.

At that time the bear was worth more to
me than all the gold in the world.

TRAPPING A BEAR 69

Considering the situation carefully I found
that I would have to break away some of the
lashing in order to get at the animal. But
I had to be careful not to break away too much,
so I made an aperture just big enough for him
to stick his head out.

Before doing this I got a hornbeam club,
which I held in readiness.

Presently out came the nose of the bear.
I made a vicious swing and missed him. My
presence so enraged the animal that he struggled
around trying frantically to escape. Again
his head came up through the torn place in the
cover, and this time I landed squarely on
top of it!

But you can't kill a bear by hitting him over
the head. You must strike him on the nose.
I knew that, and just waited my chance.

As I looked down at him a feeling of pity
came over me at the method I was forced
to use. But how else could I do it? Pretty
soon he stuck out his front paws. I swung
and hit them. With a cry of pain he pulled
them back.

Keeping my eyes on the bear every minute
I backed away to a tree and broke off a small
limb covered with leaves. Returning to the
trap I tore away another lashing.

70 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

With my left hand I began to dangle the
leaves on the end of the branch in his face, to
divert his attention so that I could deliver a
blow with the club.

In his anger a good part of his nose came
out. I swung my club, landing on the side
of the bear's nose. The animal toppled over
in the pit and lay perfectly still.

Knowing bears of old I did not take any
chances even then. I prodded him with the
stick. There was no question about it — he
was dead!

It had been pretty strenuous work, so I
decided to put off the task of skinning the
creature until the next day. I knew what
that would mean without any knife! It would
take me hours to complete the work.

Catching that bear was the biggest thing I
had yet accomplished in the forest.

I think every man who has accomplished
something a bit bigger than the ordinary
things of his daily routine has a right to feel
proud. It is a part of his reward.

However, there was a great deal of luck at-
tached to my catching that bear. Anyway I
had him, and I was pleased beyond measure.

The red deer and the little white fawn came
up to my spring the next morning.

TRAPPING A BEAR 71

By seven o'clock I was at the trap again. On
the way I picked up the sharpest-edged rocks
I could find, throwing away those I had as
I came across better ones. These rocks are
surprisingly sharp, and abound everywhere in
this region.

I was ready for a hard day's work.

Pulling away the covering, I broke down the
side of the pit and forced a couple of logs
under the body of the bear, raising him slightly.
I should estimate that he weighed close to
two hundred pounds.

By getting a good hold and tugging and haul-
ing I managed to drag him up the side of the pit
I had just broken down. Then I rolled him
over on his back. I would have given anything
for a knife just then! In its place I took one
of the sharp rocks and began sawing back and
forth on the inside of one of his hind legs.

After a seemingly endless time the hair
began to curl up under the rock. It worked
hard at first, but by putting all my muscle
back of it I finally broke the skin.

Not until later had I worked down the
hind legs, up the stomach, and then up and
down the inside of the front legs.

While it was a crude piece of work, the skin
was now ready to be taken off.

72 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

I was tired after finishing this stunt. A few
moments ' rest and I was at work again. Then
for hours I tugged and pulled at that skin
trying to remove it from the carcass. Alter-
nately working and resting for short periods,
I took hold of the skin with one hand while I
ripped it away from the flesh by scraping
between the two with the sharpest stones I
had.

Of course, quantities of meat came off with
the skin, but that did n 't bother me for I
knew I could scrape it off later.

Not until late in the afternoon — judging
by the sun — did I finally pull that skin en-
tirely off. And I had started to work about
seven that morning!

As Lost Pond was not very far from where I
had made the trap I decided to go there, and
afterwards to my first lean-to, which was in
that vicinity.

First I sawed off with my rock a large por-
tion of the bear meat for food, gathering the
sinew. Slinging the meat and skin over my
shoulder, I started for camp.

I confess I was pretty much "all in" when
I arrived at the pond. My hands were cramped
and scratched, and every muscle in my back
and arms ached.

TUxiPPING A BEAR 73

Throwing the skin and meat down on the
shore I plunged into the water. The bath was
very refreshing; it made a new man out of
me. After I came out I lay down in the sun
to rest.

The beavers were busy over on the dam, and
I watched them a long time.

With visions of an early bed I went back
into the woods in the direction of my lean-to,
where I built a new fire and ate a supper of dried
berries and smoked trout, which I had pre-
viously stored away for just such an emer-
gency.

I slept soundly that night.

In the morning the first thing I determined
to do was to get that skin into some sort of
condition. I laid it out on some cedar logs
and fleshed it clean, by scraping it off with rocks
and pulling it over the logs.

Next I took a sheet of birch bark and made
a water-tight dish. Filling this with water, I
threw in some small pieces of rotten wood, and
began to steep it over the fire. A birch-bark
dish will never burn below the water line.

When the mixture had steeped enough I
spread the bear-hide flat on the ground, with
the hair side down, and poured the liquid
from the birch-bark dish upon it. By repeating

74 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

this process several times the skin became
tanned to a certain extent.

A thorough drying was needed now. I
singled out two saplings about the proper dis-
tance apart, and, stretching the skin as much
as I could, I laced it to the slender trunks with
cedar bark.

I had yet to work the skin and make it
pliable and soft.

Off and on I worked on that hide for about
three days. During those days I walked back
to the trap and brought the remainder of the
meat to my camp.

Tearing with the grain, I ripped the meat
into strips with my hands, roasting some
for immediate use, and putting the rest in the
smoke hole. I used quantities of dirty wood
in this smoking process, as I could get up a lot
of smoke that way. This smoked meat was n't
particularly pleasing to look at, but it would
keep and was nourishing.

While this was not the first time I had ever
trapped a bear in my life, it was the first time
I had ever eaten any of the meat.

In my years of experience as a guide I had
hunted and trapped all kinds of game — ani-
mals and birds. But I had never eaten a
pound of wild meat in my life, because I never

TRAPPING A BEAR 75

liked it particularly. In fact, I had never
eaten much fresh meat.

Now I was compelled to eat it. I did n 't
relish it a bit; but, after I devoured some,
I always felt stronger, and knew that it was
just what I needed.

Aside from the comfort of having that bear-
skin to throw over me at night, and the supply
of food I had obtained, I had secured in the
sinews of that creature a lasting cord for my
fire-kindler. The inner lining bark of the
cedar, while it had answered the purpose after
a fashion, was not the best thing for sawing
back and forth. It wore out too quickly.

With the sinew string I would not have to use
any care for fear of its breaking. I could
work the bow with all my strength, and the
cord would not be affected in any way, pro-
ducing the friction in much less time.

There is no known substance for sinew that
can equal its toughness and lasting qualities.
The Indians have a way of chewing it and
stripping it into thin fibers, which they use
as thread to sew moccasins and rawhide.

I hadn't reached the sewing stage just yet.

Since I had trapped the bear something
had been prowling around my camp at night.
I could tell by the sound that it wasn't a

76 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

very large animal, but as it kept coming I
became curious to see what it might be.

First I thought that the meat in my lean-to
might have attracted a wild-cat. Then the idea
of a bear cub came into my mind.

Anyway, I was bound to find out just what
it was, so one night, just before getting ready
to turn in, I let my fire burn pretty low and
sat up watching for some signs of the visitor.

On the other nights the sound of crackling
twigs had always come just after my fire had
burned out.

Scarcely had the last glimmer of my fire flick-
ered away when, off in the darkness to my
right, came the expected sound. I had al-
most dozed ojff as I sat there, but I woke up
quickly and listened.

Straining my eyes in the direction of the
noise I could barely make out the outline of
some animal. It was impossible to tell what
it was, but I knew it was dark colored.

As if suddenly switched on by an unseen
electric current, two balls of light flashed in
the darkness. The creature was looking at
me too! The fire was between us, and as a
lazy flame sputtered a moment before fading
away I could see the reflection of the fire-
light dancing in those eyes!

TRAPPING A BEAR 77

Presently the eyes disappeared. I seized
a smouldering brand, and, fanning it into flame,
rushed toward the spot.

I was on the right track, sure enough, for
I nearly fell over whatever it was. It was
so slow in getting away that I managed to
get it between the dying fire and me.

I was now convinced that the animal was
a bear cub by the way it acted. Through
the dim light from my brand, which was al-
ready burning low again, I saw that the crea-
ture was black. I could n't see clearly enough
to determine the head and hind; but I felt sure
that my company was a clumsy young bear.

My first thought was to catch him alive.

The little fellow made a sudden turn and
almost dodged past me, but I hurled the
brand at him and drove him back toward the
fire. He was literally between two fires!

As the brand struck the ground it went out.
With that the animal turned and ran directly
toward me. Again he tried to rush by me, but
I jumped in front of him and stopped him
with my legs.

Then I jumped again, but in a different
direction! My supposed bear cub had turned
out to be a hedgehog, and for some moments
I was fully occupied removing quills from

78 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

my legs. My bark chaps were ample protec-
tion against briers and brush, but not against
quills of hedgehogs.

My third week in the wilderness was already
drawing to a close. Physically I was perfectly
well. I had plenty of food and a comfortable
bearskin. But mentally I was suffering.

It was terribly lonesome!

CHAPTER VI

THE MENTAL VERSUS THE PHYSICAL

Since I have come back to civilization hun-
dreds of people, with real sympathy in their
voices, have said to me, "How you must have
suffered !''

In every instance they referred to physical
suffering. They imagined themselves out in
the dark woods, alone, and cold, and without
any clothing. They thought of eating nothing
but berries and roots, and with fertile imagi-
nations, colored up by extreme contrasts be-
tween wilderness life and the life of civiliza-
tion, no doubt, conjured up quite terrible
pictures in their minds.

They were all wrong.

I did not experience any physical suffering
to speak of, though I did suffer greatly in
another way. My suffering was purely mental
and a hundredfold worse than any physical
suffering I experienced.

Before I entered the forest I had never given
a serious thought to the mental side of the

79

80 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

question. I wanted to get away from the
sham side of modern life, and from people. I
\ looked forward to being alone, where I could
have a chance to think out various problems
without interruption. It never occurred to
me that I might be lonely.

In past years I had often been in the woods
alone, though, to be sure, not for very long
at a time. In those days the solitude would
be broken by the appearance of some chance
hunter, once in a while, and my talking with him
would break the monotony until someone
else came along.

But here alone in the wilderness day after
day without the sound of a human voice,
or the contact of a human being, and the
knowledge that there wouldn't be either for
two whole months, it was very different.

The complete isolation got on my nerves.

It was far harder for me than it was for the
original primitive man. He not only had his
own kind about him, but he knew nothing of
any other life than the one he was leading.
I always had a comparison before me.

The only thing which really puzzled me be-
fore I went into the woods was whether or
not I could stand the cold without clothes.
Afterwards this side of the question was a

MENTAL VERSUS THE PHYSICAL 81

mere nothing compared with the mental tor-
ment I had completely overlooked.

Every night at twilight my mind would be-
gin tormenting me with memories. I used to
force myself to fight off these moods by sketch-
ing with charcoal on birch bark and doing
other things.

The torture always commenced with pictures
of my friends and those I loved best coming
into my mind. My heart was with them.
I would dream of them as their faces rose
before me in the firelight. When finally I
dropped off into a troubled sleep, I would
keep right on seeing them in my dreams.

Time and again those mental spells were
almost too much for me. At those times I
would vow that I would leave the forest on
the very next day.

I remember, sitting there before my fire,
more than once the human thought would
come to me, "You are doing something that
no other man has ever done.'' And like a
schoolboy who has received one hundred per
cent in his lessons I yearned for someone
to tell me that I was doing well! This is some-
what of a confession, but it is true and I know
the reader will understand.

When I made my bow out of a rude big

82 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

stick, and through the burning process worked
out the weapon, I wanted to show it to some-
one and tell how I had made it with just fire
and a stone.

Eventually I would always get back to nor-
mal by acknowledging to myself that any
man with stuff in him could do everything
I was doing. I certainly was n't going to con-
fess to myself that I lacked ^^ stuff!''

A man fears, above all else, being called a
quitter. Through that fear he accomplishes
things he never dreamed he could accomplish.
Therefore, I maintain, that to a certain extent
vanity and pride are good assets for a man to
have.

Again and again the thought would come to
me that some people who didn't understand
anything about the woods would doubt some
of the things I had done, simply because they
had never heard of such things before. Folks
never doubt the things they know about.

It was really nothing to get along in the woods.
Everything I needed was there, and I knew
how to get it.

I made no deliberate plan for my daily ex-
istence, but let each day take care of itself.
I was simply a part of the forest, and as the
forest thrived so did I.

P X

MENTAL VERSUS THE PHYSICAL 83

My whole fight was to stay there alone in
the wilderness two full months.

Once more I want to emphasize that the
physical suffering was nothing.

Such a life as I led could have been duplicated
by a child of ten of the primitive type. Elimi-
nating the fear of the forest, even a modern
child would not have suffered mentally as I
did, for he would have had only the brain
of a child and not the brain of a man.

Had I possessed the brain of an animal I
could have lived far more contentedly than
I did with my own civilized power of thinking.

An animal knows where and how to get
sustenance in the woods. If a forest creature
knows by instinct, could n 't a human being
with his higher intelligence learn? And if a
human being lived on and on in the woods,
wouldn't he be constantly learning more and
more about them? In time would n't he even-
tually come tc know what the animals know,
and with his superior brains wouldn't he be
master of all he surveyed?

So, you see, with that outside world con-
tinually coming back to haunt me I had a
fight on my hands.

Time and time again I said to myself, "Here
is a chance to show that you are a man."

84 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

Physically I was in the pink of condition,
and I knew it. All I had to contend with was
the mental side. Nothing in the forest was too
difficult for me to endure.

I reasoned it all out this way. Any man,
no matter what sort of a man, could go into
the woods. Almost anyone could go through
the process of removing his clothing. I knew
that no one could freeze to death in the north-
ern Maine woods in August or September.
He would n't starve to death for three or four
days, perhaps longer.

I figured out that all a man needed was to
keep his head. Surely any man would know
enough to hunt for a spring. Water alone
would keep him alive for ten days. Even a
child can pick berries, and it is not a very
difficult problem to eat the berries one picks.
Berries will sustain a man for a long time.

Now when night falls anyone knows enough
to lie down if he is tired. If he is cold he will
instinctively get up and run around to increase
his circulation, which will soon make him
warm again. He will not catch cold if he keeps
going; in fact, he will unconsciously be putting
himself in fine condition.

Of course, it required some ingenuity and
exertion to get a fire and a skin for covering

MENTAL VERSUS THE PHYSICAL 85

and different kinds of food, but still all these
were obtainable in the forest if one but went
after them.

Thinking all this over in my mind I saw how
comparatively simple the physical side of the
experiment was.

It was far harder to obtain mental food and
comfort. That was my battle.

I remember one night when I was in despair.
I sat looking dejectedly into the fire, vowing
fervently to myself — and I meant it just then
— "This is my last night in this wilderness.
I don't care if my time is n't up. Life is too
short to be spent voluntarily suffering the way
I am suffering." I was pessimistic about
everything.

"All my life long I have tried to do the very
best I knew how,'' I mused, "and it has not
been appreciated."

There I was enveloping myself with self-
pity — a wretched, human thing to do. I
imagined people were laughing at me out
there in the world and calling me a "crazy
fool."

So far as I was concerned I had proved con-
clusively to myself that a man can exist in the
wilderness alone, just as I had claimed he
could before I went in. What was the use

86 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

of torturing myself any further to live out a
certain time just because I had said I would?

I didn't care what the people said about
my staying the full time out. To me that side
was trivial compared to the fact that I had
actually lived weeks as I promised I would
live.

That night, which was shortly after I had
trapped the bear, I made up my mind that I
would go to King and Bartlett Camps and
have the thing over the next day.

Then I began to wonder what the sportsmen
would say. Here is what I could imagine I
heard them shout: ^^You made a mighty good
showing and we don't blame you for quitting
before the two months were up!" They were
bound to say that. Getting away from that
^^ Quitting before the two months were up"
was impossible out there in the civilized world.
The world would never look at the value of
what I had already proved by my life in the
woods, but would grudgingly remember that
I had quit before the stipulated time — al-
though that extra time, which meant such
mental suffering to me, would probably add
nothing to the intrinsic value of the experi-
ment.

Not what I had done but that I had quit

MENTAL VERSUS THE PHYSICAL 87

was bound to be foremost in the minds of
everyone. In a way it would mean that I had
failed to make good.

I did n 't like that thought at all, and in an
effort to get rid of it started on some arduous
physical worS. This always was a great help,
and brought me back to a normal state of
mind.

Day after day I would agree with myself
to stick it out one day longer. Another night
would come, with its terrible mental battle.
"Just one more day," I would say again; and
thus the days went slowly by.

Never before had I realized the wide gulf
that lies between the primitive life our ancestors
lived and the high plane of civilization reached
by the world of to-day. The great complexity
of modern life is best seen from the lowly state
I was living in.

The biggest temptation I ever had in my
whole life came on the morning of August
twenty-eighth. I was on my way to the
spring and had just stepped out of a clump
of bushes when I saw a real live human being
kneeling down to get a drink. It was a man!
I was so amazed that I could n't move. I was
just about to turn away and dash back into
the timber when he looked up and saw me.

88 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

He jumped back a little and stood looking
at me keenly.

Then the man said, '* Hello, Joe," in a kind
of hesitating manner.

I had never seen him before in my life and
an almost overpowering desire came upon
me to talk to him — just a word or two with
another human being!

"It will be all off —it will be all off" kept sing-
ing through my brain. I stood there dumb for a
second, then turned and went back into the
woods. There I peered through the trees and
watched the man go off to the left and disappear.

I never caught another glimpse of that man
again until after I had come out of the forest.
He proved to be a Maine guide. Afterwards he
told me I was a wild-looking thing in my
bronze skin and scraggly beard.

After seeing that one human being it was
worse for me than ever. How much easier it
was to find food, fire, and shelter than mental
peace and contentment!

Since getting my bearskin I had become ob-
sessed with the idea that the game wardens were
on my trail, and I worked myself up into a bitter
frame of mind concerning them. But I want to
confine this particular phase of my mental
suffering to another chapter.

MENTAL VERSUS THE PHYSICAL 89

After seeing the man at the spring I hurried
back to my camp and made quick preparations
for getting out of that part of the country.
I put everything I had in my pack, including
dried berries, smoked fish, and a quantity of
smoked and dried meat. Then I rolled up my
bearskin, placed it on top of the load, and
started down the trail.

Fearing that the man might tell people
he had seen me in that vicinity I left a note
for visitors on a tree close by the lean-to, an-
nouncing that I should not return there.

Then with my head down I walked and
walked for miles. I don't know exactly
where I slept that night in the forest, but
it was somewhere with my back against a
tree.

The next day I threw up a shelter on the
northwest side of Bear Mountain, which I
used as a sort of headquarters for awhile.

Constantly being obliged to wage battles
with myself there in the wilderness has meant
big things for me, which I keenly realize now
that it is all over. It opened a new line of
thought I had never followed before.

Among other reflections alone in the woods
I thought how sympathy was wasted out in
the civilized world, especially in regard to the

90 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

so-called poorer class. I made up my mind
that it is the middle class that suffers most.
The middle-class family that experiences re-
verses has a comparison of living — just as I
had in the forest — which makes it harder
to bear.

Those who have known nothing but poverty
all their lives do not have this comparison, for
they never had anything to lose. Yet nine-
tenths of human sympathy goes their way
simply because the human being in comfortable
circumstances allows himself to judge the man
and woman living in poverty from his own
plane.

This thought led me on to admitting that
there is more real contentment in some hovels
of the very poor than there is in some of the
homes of the wealthy.

If I could have had just one human compan-
ion in the wilderness I would have been per-
fectly contented away from the luxury of the
world. Human companionship is the greatest
luxury I know of.

My mind was starving!

I began to wander farther from my lean-to,
leaving it for whole days.

On rainy nights I crept into some thicket
to rest, while on fair ones I would pick out

MENTAL VERSUS THE PHYSICAL 91

some tree and curl up on the ground close
to the trunk.

Every day I would say, "I'll stick it out
just for to-day."

Twice along the trails I had come upon the
carcass of a deer, which, in each instance,
had evidently been killed by wild-cats. But
in both cases the skin was so badly decomposed
that it was impossible to use any of it.

A short time later I passed the body of
a deer still warm. A cat must have killed it
just as I approached, and was possibly hiding
near me in the thicket.

Here was an unexpected find! While it
was a small deer it offered some sort of a skin,
and every bit would help me now.

I hunted around for the wild-cat but it was
nowhere to be seen.

Then I began to search for rocks with which
to skin the animal, and presently finding some
I commenced to work.

Skinning a deer is a very different proposition
from skinning a bear. Breaking the skin is
not so difficult, and when once it is broken it
peels off very easily.

After completing the task, I cut off what
venison I needed and hunted for a place to
camp. I really dreaded the night now; it

92 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

brought too many thought-pictures of the
outside world with it.

I camped under the shelter of a big spruce
blowdown that night. Having an extra skin
and a fresh supply of meat helped me to de-
cide to stick it out a little longer, which I did
before I fell asleep.

CHAPTER VII

WILDERNESS NEIGHBORS

While I always had an inherent love for
wild animals my contact with them during
my two months alone in the wilderness has
made me love them even more.

I was, in truth, one of them. They were
my neighbors, my companions, my friends.
Their proximity meant much to me, especially
at the times when I was most depressed. I
even talked with them, and, in their own way,
they talked back to me.

I felt confident that in six months ' time every
creature in that particular part of the wilder-
ness would have known me and become friendly.

There is a great deal to be learned from
animals. Discontentment is unknown among
them. They are individually free, go when
and where they please, and do whatever they
wish to do.

Discontent in me had come as one of the
results of a civilized life.

Men and women of the world are nothing

93

94 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

but animals called human beings — a polite
name, that is all. Fundamentally they are
no different from the animals that roam the
woods.

I felt myself very close to these wild crea-
tures. I understood them because I was living
among them, and had lived among them be-
fore.

Whenever I chanced to come across a deer
on one of the trails, that deer knew instinctively
the moment she saw me whether or not I had
an idea of doing her harm. She understood
me very quickly, and I understood her. That
is why the red deer and the little white fawn
that came to my spring every morning were
such good friends of mine.

There isn't an animal in the forest that
does n't want to make friends with man!

I had a flock of partridges in the woods so
tame that two of them would actually follow
behind me on the trail. I used to laugh at
them. They were jealous for fear one would
get nearer to me than the other. Whenever
one would come quite close to me the other
would peck at him and drive him back.

One morning I came across four or five of
these birds on the lower limb of a tree. As
I went closer and began talking to them

WILDERNESS NEIGHBORS 95

they daintily sidestepped on that limb for
all the world like a lot of coquettish young
women.

Finally it got so I could put my hand out and
touch them. They knew that I would n't hurt
them. Under such conditions I never caught
a partridge; it would have been a breach of
confidence.

When I needed a bird for food I went hunting
for one, but in such instances I never made
the bird feel that I was friendly.

Those partridges I was speaking about on
the lower limb of that tree wanted me to touch
them. They would playfully peck at my hand
and dance coyly along the branch in a kind
of teasing way, exactly as a woman says ''no"
when she means /'yes."

As to the deer — they will get so tame that
they will come right up to your lean-to and
eat out of your hand. You cannot tame deer
by going to them. Arouse their curiosity, and
show that you will not harm them. While
they are still curious they will never forget
you. They see and smell you, and their curi-
osity will bring them back.

You don't have to go [near any wild or
domestic animal to tame it. It will come to
you and live with you and sleep with you. All

96 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

you have to do is simply to conceal your own
curiosity.

Whenever you see a wild animal in the
woods go toward him carelessly. Let the
creature know that you have seen him, and
then suddenly change your course or do some-
thing to show that you are n 't apparently
interested in him. Pay absolutely no atten-
tion to him. He knows that you saw him and
yet went about your own business without offer-
ing to harm him. That animal will never
forget you.

It is not man that the wild animal is afraid
of, but the human scent. If a deer, for instance,
sees a man standing still in the forest, and the
wind is blowing in the wrong way for him to
catch the scent, he thinks the man is a part of
the forest just like a log or a tree; but the
minute he catches the scent he is on the alert.
Perhaps in his own life the human scent has
meant danger to him. On the other hand, while
it may never have bothered him, the human
scent may have meant injury to some of his
forbears and so he naturally inherits the
instinctive fear.

However, in that scent, the animal can
analyze the man. He can instinctively read a
man's character by his smell. This is the

WILDERNESS NEIGHBORS 97

reason why a deer will fly from one person
the moment he gets his scent, while he will
stand by and watch out of curiosity another
man who means him no harm.

I greatly deplore the wrong teachings about
the woods and animals given the child of to-day.
True, the popular fairy tale develops the im-
agination along certain lines, but this imagi-
nation does more harm than good where nature
is concerned in such stories.

In fairy tales the woods are always deep,
dark forests. Giants and witches live there.
The child learns to fear the woods, especially
at night.

The average young child who heard a hoot-
owl screech from the depths of a dark forest
would shriek with terror. To him the sound
would mean witches and goblins and gnomes
and other horrible things. In reality that
poor little hoot-owl would only be predicting
the coming of a storm!

After a child gets through hearing stories
out of animal books he will cry out, "Don't
go into the woods. There's probably a wild-
cat up in a tree and he'll pounce down on you!"
— the one idea left in his mind being fear.

Nature is the source from which we live
and move and have our very being. Liberty

98 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

is the foundation of good government. Yet
it is as important that the child be taught to
know and value nature as it is that he mem-
orize the national anthem of his country and
pledge allegiance to the flag.

Nowhere does liberty exist so strongly as
among the animals and in the heart of nature.
From wilderness life to the simple country life,
and then up through the life of a great city
liberty gradually decreases.

"At gold's superior charm all freedom flies,
The needy sell it and the rich man buys."

The top-notch of society has the least liberty
in the world, being bound hand and foot to a
rigid social code.

Instead of frightening a child with visions
of giants, why not tell him that there is not an
animal in the north woods that will voluntarily
attack him? Of course a bear with a cub will
attack a man if she is molested; if let alone she
will run away in peace.

Deer and moose never fight unless cornered.
Even the wild-cat will slink away to the under-
brush at the sound of a man's footfall. A
hunger-enraged wolf will never dare approach
a fire. Fire is protection from any animal.

All kinds of dogs will come up to me. They

WILDERNESS NEIGHBORS 99

seem to know instinctively that I am their
friend. I don't care how cross a dog is, I can
readily make friends with him.

There is an interesting thing about a cross
dog. Someone tells someone else that a man
named Smith has a cross dog. When that some-
one else passes Smith 's house the dog comes out
and barks at him and he immediately becomes
terror-stricken. If the man had felt no fear,
and paid no attention to him, that dog would
have stopped barking. The mere ignoring
of the animal would have created an abnormal
curiosity in his dog-mind and he would have
begun to sniff around the man's legs.

Even then, if I were that man, I would not
have talked to that dog. I would have been ab-
solutely indifferent toward him, and he would
immediately have realized that I was his master.

Don't think for a moment that you can
say to any ugly dog "Nice doggy" in a voice
that is quavering with fear and get away with
it! The dog won't pay any attention to the
"nice doggy" part, but he will scent that fear.

There was one saucy chipmunk that used to
come and visit me daily at my Bear Moun-
tain lean-to. He would chatter with me, fill
his chops with bits of food, and scurry away
to bury them. Sometimes he would come

100 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

around three or four times a day. He paid
no more attention to me, as far as being afraid
of me was concerned, than as if I were not there.

One day, while I was cooking some trout, I
heard an awful disturbance around the back
of my lean-to. I investigated, and found
a furious battle going on between a red squirrel
and my friend the chipmunk. The big red
squirrel had trespassed on the chipmunk's
stamping ground, and, of course, that would
never do. It was a dreadful fight for little
fellows to be engaged in. Around and around
they tore, through the leaves, under the tangle,
over fallen trunks, up the trees and down again.
Occasionally they came together, and then
nothing could be seen but one flying ball of
fur. Getting apart again, they would rest a
second, panting, before resuming the contest.

Swish! They were at it again, and another
wild scene would be repeated. In the end that
spunky little chipmunk actually beat the red
squirrel and drove him off!

After that the red squirrel used to come
around every day, and from a distance would
scream and scold at the chipmunk — (the
red squirrel has a sort of bark). Then he
would see me and begin to bark at me be-
cause he knew I was friendly with the chip-

WILDERNESS NEIGHBORS 101

munk. At this the chipmunk came right up to
me and began to play around my feet, though
I had never attempted to make friends with
him. He made friends with me.

I knew what went on in the minds of these
little animals.

An incident comes to my mind which hap-
pened in this very country, a bit farther north,
during my early trapping days.

One spring morning, some years ago, another
trapper and I had our breakfast on the slope
of a mountainside. We were discussing the
day's work ahead of us.

After the meal he gave me a big steel bear
trap and told me to take it along a certain
trail leading south until I came to a big ledge.
Then he directed me to go up on to this ledge
and look to the west. ^' There you will see a
big oak tree that you can't miss,'' he said,
"and at the foot of that tree you will find a
bear house. That is where you will set your
trap."

I walked briskly along and presently came
to the ledge he had spoken of. I climbed
to the top, and, sure enough, there was the
oak tree all right. I discovered the bear house,
and starting toward it I beheld a spike-horn
moose standing twenty feet away, headed in

102 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

my direction. He was looking straight at me
and never moved. I too stood perfectly still.
I could see that the old fellow was puzzling
his head. He was wondering about me. He
waited for me to do something. Both of his
ears were pointed toward me. After a few
moments, he moved one of his ears backward
and listened for sounds behind him.

Up to this time I had not moved. Presently
I noticed that he moved his head a little and
threw back both ears. He was saying to him-
self, *^I don't feel very comfortable here. This
thing I see over there is an uncertainty. " Still
there was not much fear in that moose's heart;
I had not moved.

It was interesting to watch him. I thought,
''I wonder how near I can get to him before
he moves away.''

In a flash that moose knew what I was
thinking of. He knew I was getting ready
to do something. Yet I hadn'fe moved. He
didn't know what I was going to do but he
waited to see.

Keeping my eye on him I carefully reached
up to my shoulder and lifted off the trap chain.
Still very cautiously I lowered the trap to the
ledge beside me, but I did not move my feet
or change my position.

WILDERNESS NEIGHBORS 103

The moose had seen me do this, but he was
not quite sure whether I had moved or not and
was waiting there to see.

Suddenly I made a quick bolt at him, and
actually got within ten feet of him before he
bounded off in another direction. I kept
right after him at top speed and held my own.
He was headed for the burnt lands.

Plunging into a tangle his legs became caught
and he was held fast. He was at my mercy.
However, he didn't fear me in the slightest.
He was ready to fight. The bristles on his
back stood up as a kind of challenge. He
made no effort to untangle himself, but just
stood there and waited.

I talked with him awhile and walked around
him. I could see that he expected I was going
to do something unlooked for. I kept on talk-
ing to him, turning my head away from time
to time and pretending to busy myself with
something else.

I could see the disposition of that moose
change toward me. The bristles on his back
began to go down. He probably said to him-
self; "This is a funny fellow. He chases me
way out here, and then, when he has me caught,
he does n't do a thing but stand there and talk
to me I"

104 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

Then he began to pull his forelegs out of the
tangle. When he got free he turned around
and looked at me. I could see that I was a
mystery to him. He didn't know what to
make of me.

Then he sauntered off as leisurely as if I
had been nowhere around, stopping every
few paces to gaze back at me. The foremost
thought in that animaPs mind was. *^I can't
fathom that!" All the way, until he disap-
peared in the direction of the burnt lands,
that moose turned around to watch me as I
stood there. Even after he had passed out of
my sight I'll wager he watched for some little
time through the trees.

As in this instance of the moose, the thoughts
of all other animals of the forest are easy to
understand. The human being has the advan-
tage because of his better developed brain.
The man reasons logically; the animal in-
stinctively.

Without the slightest question the most
interesting of all animals is the beaver. During
my isolation I spent many hours watching
these busybodies at work. Their constant
industry and power to work without the slight-
est waste are an inspiration.

The beaver pond that I saw had once been

WILDERNESS NEIGHBORS 105

nothing but a mountain stream. It was now a
broad sheet of water and rightfully belonged
to the beavers.

Each year as their numbers increased they
built their dam higher and stronger, so that
it flooded more timberland. Thus these crea-
tures had spread their field of operation, so
that they would not have so far to drag their
cuttings to the water.

The beaver dam is everlasting. It stands for
all time, growing stronger each year with the
growth of vegetation planted by the seeds that
are washed down in the current. Many ponds
owe their origin to the beaver.

So well done is the dam of the beavers'
building that lumbermen require dynamite
to blow out one of them to make a passage
for their logs.

As there is a limit to all things so there is a
limit to the height of a beaver dam and the
spreading surface of the water. When this
point is reached, and the feed-wood is growing
scarce along the banks, the beavers begin to mi-
grate and leave their houses along the shore
empty.

Beavers travel in pairs, male and female
together, each pair going in different directions
over the mountainsides into the valleys. Here

106 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

they start operations for themselves by con-
structing dams across a stream or an outlet,
or some spring in a country where wood is
plentiful.

When no beavers remain to keep a dam in
repair the water settles in abandoned beaver
ponds, and their drag roads become game trails.
In summer the deer and the moose come down
these trails to feed on the tender bottom-grass.

The beaver is intelligent and labor-saving.
His system is equal to that of any human being.
With him there is no waste of material or time,
and, with the aid of nature, his work is always
well done. From his first stick of feed-wood
on, everything counts.

He cuts down his tree with his sharp teeth,
drags it to the water's edge, and peels it. Usu-
ally he selects trees from one to three inches
in diameter, on the bank of his pond or stream
above the dam. These he cuts into lengths of
from four to eight feet.

The beaver likes poplar best of all. After
eating the bark he allows the peeled sticks to
float downstream where they lodge on the dam.
There they remain ready for use in repairing
the dam or in building the beaver's house.

Feed-wood will not float with the bark on.
That is why beaver dams and houses are built

WILDERNESS NEIGHBORS 107

of peeled sticks. Chinked with moss and stones
both are firm and waterproof.

When the time comes that the beaver must
lay in his winter supply of food and bedding,
he begins to cut such wood as he is able to handle
and carry it to the water's edge. Holding the
butt of the stick to keep it from sinking he
swims to the entrance of his house.

Diving into the water, the beaver then makes
the butt secure in the muddy bottom, leaving
the stick in an upright position with a portion
protruding just above the water line. Stick after
stick is deposited until the winter supply of
feed-wood with bark and limbs is securely fas-
tened in the mud, within easy reaching dis-
tance from the entrance of his house, which is
under water.

When the cold weather comes the sticks are
made more secure than ever as they are frozen
in solid. Then the feeding from this store-
house begins. The beaver dives from the en-
trance of his house, swimming under the
ice to his source of supply, where he cuts off
a stick of feed-wood and returns to the house
with it. After the bark is consumed for food,
the stick is chewed into shreds like excelsior
and used to make a nest for the family.

The beaver house is most interesting. It

108 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

is shaped like a beehive, with an airhole at the
top, and is built on the shore with the entrance
under water. Some of these houses have two
or three stories, one on top of the other, the
whole accommodating as many as ten beavers.

Now among the beavers there are some who
do not work. They are called ^^ bank beavers,"
or *^ bankers. " They live in the waters backed
up by the dams of the workers, never doing
anything themselves, and feeding upon the
bark of woods that others cut. They never
drag any wood for their own use. In winter,
when ponds and streams are sealed with ice,
they steal their food from the storehouse of the
workers. These * 'bankers" are always sleek, fat,
well furred, and usually larger than the indus-
trious beavers. The two never associate. This
"banker," who is not self-sustaining, is not
unlike one who leans whoUy on others in human
life.

That afternoon, while I was watching the
beavers after I had skinned my bear, I remem-
bered how once, years before, I had been forced
to sleep in a beaver's house. At the time I
had been in the woods for weeks trapping, and
was overtaken by a heavy snowstorm. Being
far from camp, I knew that I must find some
sort of a shelter at once. I was close to a beaver

WILDERNESS NEIGHBORS 109

pond, and the sight of an abandoned beaver
house gave me an idea.

Not caring to use the front door, which was
under water, I made an opening through
the top, leaving a space for me to crawl in, and
piled on some rough boughs and sticks for a
roof. Once inside, I pulled the covering
together securely and made myself comfortable
for the night.

Just as I had utilized the home of an animal
in that blizzard, so did a black snake take ad-
vantage of my Bear Mountain lean-to one
night during my primitive life in the forest.

Waking up one morning I felt something
strange snuggled up close to my chin. Sitting
up quickly caused a coiled black snake to slide
from my breast down to the ground beside me.
I should say he was about two and a half feet
long. Evidently he was cold and had crawled
in close to my sleeping body to get warm;
I guess he had, for he wriggled away lively
enough !

During my entire two months I saw but few
snakes. There are no rattlers in that part of
the country, and the few other species are
generally harmless. I saw the garter, the green,
and the black snake, among others.

People have asked me since my return why I

110 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

did n 't get some fox skins. In the first
place I did n 't absolutely need their skins,
and, though I had already been obliged to
break the game laws, I never did so unless im-
pelled by dire necessity.

I saw a red fox one morning, however, nosing
around down by the spring. He didn't see
me, so I made up my mind to have some
fun with him. I commenced to squeak like a
mouse. Raising his head quickly, he im-
mediately began to creep toward the sound,
with both ears alert for another squeak. I
squeaked again and on he came. Then sud-
denly he saw me move, and away he scudded
into the bushes!

I always have to laugh when these animals
answer a squeak. Even standing out on a
frozen pond in the open you can squeak a fox
very close to you if you keep perfectly still.
Like other inhabitants of the woods, unless he
gets your scent he will take you for a stump or
other part of the surroundings until you make a
movement.

Had I had an ''at home'' there in the wil-
derness invitations would have been forwarded
to the moose, deer, beaver, bear, wild-cat, otter,
mink, squirrel, fox, rabbit, partridge, chipmunk,
blue heron, loon, wild goose, wild duck, and

WILDERNESS NEIGHBORS 111

hoot-owl — for they were all my neighbors and
friends.

As to the moose — I saw only three in my do-
main, where ten years ago I would have seen
at least fifty in two months' time! I have
a story about two of these three moose.

CHAPTER VIII

FEVER AND THE BATTLE OF THE MOOSE

Sleeping with one's back against the roots
of a spruce blowdown in fair weather is not the
worst thing in the world; but that morning
when I awoke in the wilderness — the day
after I had found the deer killed by the wild-
cat — it was raining hard. The rain awakened
me, and I was n 't particularly comfortable.
Then, too, that mood of utter dejection was
still hanging over me, which didn't help
matters in the slightest.

Digging down into my pack I found some
dried raspberries, of which I ate sparingly.

After breakfast I packed up my small deer-
skin and bearskin and started off again along
the natural game trail. I did n 't select any
special direction, but after walking for some
time I saw that I was headed for what is known
as the Horseshoe Country.

This morning the feeling within me to give
up the experiment was stronger than ever.
I hated the woods, the world, and myself.

112

FEVER AND BATTLE OF MOOSE 113

I walked on for miles, going wherever the
path took me, until well into the afternoon,
when I suddenly perceived that I was pretty
well into a swamp. Desirous of getting as far
away as possible I had n 't noticed where the
trail was leading me.

Thinking I could get through the bog all
right I kept straight ahead; but my progress
was so slow that I realized that darkness would
soon overtake me.

^ Night came on with a rush. I decided to
pick out the driest place I could find and camp
there for the night; but with the soggy condi-
tion of the ground itself and the rain that was
still falling it was impossible to find a dry spot.

I attempted to make a fire, but after a quarter
of an hour of the most discouraging work I had
to give it up.

By this time it was very dark, and I saw
that something must be done. I couldn't
stand there all night, neither could I rest on
that soaking ground, so I started blindly through
the tangles, sinking down into the mud and
water at every other step.

My pack hampered me greatly and I saw that
I must get rid of it. I swung it off my back
and hung it on to the limb of a dead cedar,
and proceeded to spot the trail by breaking over

114 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

limbs and underbrush. At daylight I planned
to come back for my pack, because everything
I possessed in the world just then was contained
in it.

On I went once more. I had an idea in my
head that I must be close to the edge of the
swamp, and so I struggled on instead of going
back. It seemed as if, with every step, the
footing became worse. It was laborious work.
My feet would sink 'way down in the mud,
so that when I drew them up it seemed as if
there were weights attached to each foot.

Time and again I would run into fallen timber
and be forced to crawl under it. I didn't
care to take the chance of stepping over it, for
I was in my bare feet and was afraid of slipping.

It began to get cold now and I realized how
foolish I had been to leave that bearskin behind.
I was naked. For the first time since entering
the wilderness I was really suffering physically.
Above all else I wanted a solid place to put my
feet. Dragging them in and out of the mire
was exhausting and I was getting very tired.

I had n 't noticed it before, but it had stopped
raining. The heavy clouds which had made it
so dark in the swamp began to break away and
occasionally the moon peeked out, weirdly
outlining the fallen timber and tangle about me.

FEVER AND BATTLE OF MOOSE 115

But it was better than inky blackness, and I
stumbled ahead. Then a cloud would obliterate
the face of the moon, leaving me in total dark-
ness again. A cold damp wind swept through
the bog, chilling me through and through.
If I could have run I wouldn't have minded
it.

Once when the moon came out again I saw
some kind of a clearing in front of me. In
the distance I could just make out the outline
of higher land against the sky. With this goal
in sight I increased my weary efforts.

I had nearly reached the center of this open-
ing on the dead cedars which were half buried
in the grass and mud when I discovered in
my path a dead stream. I followed along the
mud-sogged bank, searching for a fallen tree
where I might cross. Finally I found one,
and was mighty thankful for it, as the footing
was getting almost impossible. Carefully I
began to walk over that fallen tree, and treach-
erous footing it was, for the bark was as slip-
pery as glass. I curled up my toes like a monkey
to get a better hold, hoping that the moon
would light my way until I got to the other side.
But luck was not with me that night, for no
sooner did hope of the moon enter my head
than a black shadow fell across my path. Inky

116 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

blackness again settled down over the wilder-
ness, leaving me helpless.

I tried to stand perfectly still to get my
bearings, but suddenly the bark under my feet
seemed to slip and I was thrown into the
mud and water below. I remember, as I
rose to my knees, I felt as if I didn't care
what happened. I was weary in body and
mind, but I kept on struggling.

It took every ounce of strength I had left to
get my legs out of the mud and crawl back on
to the log. I waited for the moon again, but
it did n 't appear, so I commenced to crawl
along on my hands and knees to the other
end of the log.

Finally I reached the other side. Over there,
what was my dismay to find that the mud was
even worse. Then I discovered that I was on a
floating bog! I knew it would be useless to
go on, so I again crawled back over the log.
Struggling back to the big bog I had just left
I found a place under some scrub spruce and
cedars where I waited for the morning light.

It was the longest night I ever spent, and
when morning finally dawned I was — to use
a familiar expression — *^all in.''

The mere realization that I could move my-
self around without fear of tripping over

FEVER AND BATTLE OF MOOSE 117

some fallen tree gave me courage to go back
through the swamp in search of my pack.
After a short tramp through the mud I came
upon signs of my spotted trail, and presently
found the dead cedar on which it hung.

That night found me with a good fire in
my lean-to on the northwest side of Bear
Mountain. More from exhaustion than any-
thing else I dropped into a deep sleep, but it
was not a restful one.

I awoke in the darkness, burning up with
heat. I threw my bearskin covering to one side
for relief. My head was splitting. I was
sick. I began to have chills and I reached for
my bearskin and threw it over me. Then I felt
as if I were on fire again.

"It's all off now, for sure," I muttered to
myself. "I'll make a try to get to King and
Bartlett's in the morning.''

All the rest of the night I thrashed around
on my bed of moss and boughs.

I began to wonder if I was going to lose my
mind.

When daylight came at last, I tried to get up.
I felt light-headed, and my head ached dread-
fully.

Aching all over I finally gathered myself
together and made my way down the trail

118 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

in the direction of King andBartlett's. I was
going out of the wilderness; I had fully deter-
mined upon that.

I would walk a little distance, and then, feel-
ing too badly to go on, would sit down with my
back against a tree to rest. It did n ^t seem as
if I could go very much farther.

The thought came confusedly into my mind
that it was September. Anyway, I had stayed
until September!

Presently I started off again. I could not
see very clearly. Nevertheless I could hear
perfectly well, for the next moment I heard
an awful racket off the trail to my left.

Curiosity cleared my brain, and temporarily
I forgot my own condition. There was a fallen
tree just ahead, which I walked up to and then
stopped, for just a little way beyond a crotch-
horn moose and a big bull moose were engaged
in a terrific struggle.

Watching them draw apart, only to come
together again with mighty impact, smashing
the branches of the trees and tearing up the
underbrush, the excitement made me com-
pletely forget myself.

That was the most terrible battle I ever saw
between animals in the forest. Evidently
they had been fighting for some time, for

FEVER AND BATTLE OF MOOSE 119

they were bleeding badly and breathing
heavily.

The last charge had resulted in a clinch, and
already the big bull moose was drawing back
for another rush. Lowering his head he made
a savage plunge. The younger moose cleverly
sidestepped the attack, and as the big ani-
mal crashed by he droVe his sharp spikes into
his neck with fearful force.

Down they went to the ground together.

Being the more active, the young moose
recovered his footing first, striking out savagely
with his forefeet at his rising foe. Then the
big bull staggered to his feet. A huge gash in
his neck showed red. With shaggy mane brist-
ling and lowered head, he prepared for another
charge.

The young moose was apparently fighting
on the defensive. He evaded rush after rush
and retaliated with hoofs and horns, tearing
gash after gash in the head and body of his
aggressive enemy.

Sometimes it was a running fight. At
others, they would rear on their hind legs, fall
into a clinch, lock horns and during the
struggle continually surge against the saplings
and dry cedars, breaking them down with a
crash and tearing up the ground around them.

120 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

I think in an affair of this kind it is natural
for any man to take sides. I took sides with
the young moose. The big bull was forcing
the fight, and I hoped to see him beaten.

They paid no attention to me, however,
and once even came within twenty feet of
where I was standing.

After awhile the big fellow got the crotch-
horn down, and began to gore his side fright-
fully. I yelled, and, picking up a club, hurled
it at the bull. He threw up his head, panting,
and stood looking straight at me.

In an instant the young moose was on its
feet and away. Then the big moose whirled
about and followed after him.

Completely forgetting my sickness, I threw
down my pack and went after them. At first
I thought they were running away from me,
but just then the crotch-horn dashed into a
thicket of saplings through which the big
bull tried to follow. The trees, however,
were not spread wide enough apart to admit
the broad antlers, and so the big fellow was
hung up in fine style.

Then you should have seen that young
moose! He turned like a flash, rushed back
with lowered head, and thrashed that big
bull in terrible fashion. It gouged him again

FEVER AND BATTLE OF MOOSE 121

and again, besides drawing fresh blood with his
hoofs. Rising on his hind legs he would strike
with all his strength with his front feet.

The repeated blows staggered the big moose
and he fought frantically to free himself. This
he managed to do after a time, and bellowing
at the top of his lungs he made for the young
moose, who sidestepped and dashed away again.

The crotch-horn was foxy, for he would choose
the narrow places, thus constantly slowing up
the big bull. So the nimble one got quite a
ways ahead for a start.

Presently they disappeared off through the
trees, going in a different direction from the
one I was traveling; so I turned back toward
the game trail.

About an hour afterwards I caught sight of
that young moose some distance ahead of me,
walking off into the woods. He was saunter-
ing along as independent as could be. The
big bull was nowhere to be seen. I honestly
believe that the two had come together again
in a battle to the death, and that the young
one had conquered.

With the excitement over, the effects of the
fever — for it was a fever — returned. I lay
down by the side of the trail and tried to sleep,
but I could not, though I didn't feel cold.

im ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

I got to my feet again, feeling so badly that I
thought I was going to lose my head.

The idea of my leaving the woods did not
enter my mind just then. I said to myself/' I
will go down near the camps so that if I do go
out of my head they will find me, sooner or later,
and take care of me." I reasoned also that
if I found myself getting worse and was in
the proximity of the camp, I might have
strength enough left to find my own way there.

It was a long journey, and I don't remember
a good part of it. However, as I neared the
camp, my mood changed somewhat. Some-
how I didn't quite want to give the experiment
up, and yet at the same time I did. I was pretty
close to the camp, and occasionally could hear
voices; but I was well out of sight.

Resolving to try and stick it out a little longer,
I lay down and tried to sleep again. I became
dazed and did n't seem to want to move.

Then darkness descended.

The first thing I remembered after that was
hearing a little noise close beside me on the
trail. I made no effort to see what it was. I
was too sick to care.

Presently I felt some animal sniffing me over.
It was a dog ! Had it been a man I should have
spoken to him. It was an Airedale terrier,

FEVER AND BATTLE OF MOOSE 123

belonging to Harry Pierce of the King and Bart-
lett Camps.

The dog remembered me. He was tickled to
death to see me. I spoke to him and he could n 't
get close enough to me. In his enthusiasm he
sprawled all over me.

After the preliminary greeting the dog be-
came quiet, and lay down beside me with his
back against the bearskin.

Then I fell asleep. I must have slept well,
for when I awoke my headache had disap-
peared. So had the dog. I felt better in every
way. I could see things from the right point of
view.

After moving around a bit, I said to myself,
''I guess I won't give up to-day.''

Presently the dog came trotting along down
the trail again. I talked with him for awhile,
and then turned back into the woods. I walked
on and on until I came to the side of Black
Nubble. Evidently the dog had gone back to
the camp.

On the slope of Black Nubble I threw up a
little shelter, and all day long I lay around there.

The next day I felt a great deal better, so
much so in fact that I did n 't entertain an idea
of giving the experiment up. Early in the morn-
ing I headed for the Horseshoe Country again.

124 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

That fever was my only sickness during the
entire two months. I took no barks or medi-
cines I might have thought of in the forest,
for I considered that the fresh air, which is al-
ways laden with health-giving properties, was
sufficient. It proved to be.

The civilized world is inclined, I believe, to
be medicine mad.

In the event of a severe headache the general
tendency of the civilized man or woman is to
go to bed, if possible, rather than to go out
into God's fresh sunshine and air.

Instead of permitting nature to be the doctor,
free of charge, they immediately send for the
human doctor.

In nine cases out of ten where minor ailments
are concerned the mere idea that a doctor has
been in attendance is the basis of the cures
rather than the cures actually coming from
the medicine itself. Physicians are far more
successful in effecting cures with sympathy
than they are with medicine.

Women especially are constantly visiting
their doctors for nothing more than sympathy
when very little really ails them.

The great outdoors with its woods and sea
and sunshine and fresh air is the real road to
health. Nature is indeed the great physician.

FEVER AND BATTLE OF MOOSE 125

The mere fact that countless advertisements
of patent medicines are constantly appearing
in the newspapers all over the country proves
that the people are still using such concoctions
in large quantities. The patent-medicine
companies are not paying for advertising for
the fun of it; these advertisements bring in
the business.

It would seem, therefore, with this constant
flood of worthless, so-called medicine pouring
into our social life that something is wrong with
our living.

There is n't a countryside in all New England
but where, from a railroad window, you can
see some old barn — and usually every old barn
in sight — painted black, with blood purifiers
and liver cures advertised thereon in mammoth
letters of blazing red and gold.

The systematic outdoor life is a sure safeguard
against disease, and when it is universally prac-
ticed by all, the contracting and spreading of
sickness will be materially lessened. Under
such conditions the patent-medicine concerns
would have to go out of business.

Since coming back among my friends I have
often thought of how I completely forgot my
sick and weary condition while watching that
battle between the crotch-horn and the big bull

126 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

moose out there in the forest. It only empha-
sizes a belief I have always maintained regarding
how much the mind has to do with physical
aches and pains.

During that conflict in the woods my mind
was wholly taken up with the combat itself.
There was no room left in that mind to think
of my physical self. Therefore, so far as I was
able to feel, I was perfectly well.

I mention this because once again the out-
door life plays its part. It is fresh air that makes
rich red blood; and it is rich red blood that
makes a healthy brain. A healthy brain does
not recognize sickness.

My idea of perfect health is when a man
can absolutely forget that he has a stomach,
a throat, or any other part of his body that
is apt to be troublesome.

With that one exception of fever caught in
the swamp I was in perfect health during my
two months in the wilderness. When I came
out of the forest I was not only improved phys-
ically, but my mind was improved, in spite
of the fact that I had not come in contact with
a human soul.

CHAPTER IX

ANIMAL STUDIES

In the wilderness the one great law is the
survival of the fittest. This law applies from
the very lowest of vegetable life up through
the various stages of animal life in the forest.
I observed this over and over again while I
was in the woods.

The thousands of little seeds that fall from
the big trees to the ground take root and proceed
to grow. Soon they spring up like a soft
green carpet.

It is interesting to note at the very start that
it would be impossible for all these tiny seeds
to mature inasmuch as there would not be
room enough for them all in the wilderness.
Some have to be sacrificed. It is the inevitable
law. One plant grows up sturdier than another,
and the big ones crowd out the little ones, so
that they cannot receive the nutriment they
need. These weaker specimens of growth
perish. They fulfill their part by enriching
the earth for the stronger ones, by the process
of decay.

127

128 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

Then along comes the animal, destroying
plants by feeding upon them. Some escape
total annihilation, and perhaps grow into tall
trees, rising up, up, up toward the sunlight
which is so necessary to their growth.

Here again the rugged tree pushes the weaker
tree back into the shade. It is only the fittest
that survives.

The same may be said of animals. A little
mink runs nimbly alongside the brook and
spies a partridge on a low limb of a tree. He
darts at it, catches it, and kills it. Just then a
wild-cat sneaks out of the bushes toward him.
Being the stronger, the cat has little difficulty
in robbing the mink of the bird. But while
he is feasting on the partridge, a hunter comes
along down the trail. The hunter is not only
bigger and stronger than the wild-cat, but he has
a more powerful brain. He also has a gun, so
he kills the creature.

Taking this same idea out into the civilized
world let us suppose that the hunter just men-
tioned had been a woodsman all his life. He
goes to the city for the first time to do some
business. Being unused to city ways, and men-
tally weaker in regard to business methods in
vogue, he would easily fall a victim to an un-
equal trade, just as the Indians always received

ANIMAL STUDIES 129

the worst of it at the hands of the whites years
ago.

It was the survival of the fittest that gave us
this great country of ours. There were some
things which the Indians could do that the
white men could not do, but the white men had
the more highly developed brains and the
improved weapons, which had come as a result
of trained minds, so the combination van-
quished the Indians.

Just as this law applies to all nature, so does
it concern our whole life. Capital and labor are
but another example.

In the lives of the creatures that inhabit
the wilderness there are great lessons for us to
learn. And the study is tremendously [interest-
ing.

While I had always made more or less of a
study of animals during my various experiences
in the woods, the two months that I lived as
one of them gave me insight into their ways and
habits which I shall never forget.

There is no question in my mind as to whether
or not animals have souls. Of course they have
souls! If you have ever lived alone in the
wilderness you will thoroughly believe that
they do.

Ask any man who has spent much of his

ISO ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

time in the forest to tell you some of the interest-
ing things animals have done. Ask him about
the squirrels he has watched, or the birds on
certain trees that have sung and whistled to
him. Ask him about a moose with a couple of
calves, who have frequently passed him by
without paying the slightest attention to
him. They know who 's who — these wood
creatures — and can size up a man much better
than a human being can size up one of his own
kind. To them such a man is only another
animal like themselves. It is not necessary
for the man to speak to an animal in order
to establish an understanding.

If^I could only live about twice the time
allotted to the human race it would be the
height of my ambition to go back to the woods,
where, in perfect harmony, I could come to
understand more about all these living wild
creatures. I am confident that a complete
understanding would eventually arise between
man and animal.

The Almighty has given his wood creatures
lots of things he did not give to man. For in-
stance, take the movements of the ears of the
deer. Perhaps you come upon it unawares.
It stops short and starts quickly away from
you. For a second both ears are inclined toward

ANIMAL STUDIES 131

you; then you will suddenly see one of those
ears go back. The turning of that one ear back-
ward is its only protection from danger behind
it. A human being can't flop one ear forward
and the other backward at the same time.

Instead, God has given man a higher brain.

Again, a human being cannot smell out the
track of an animal; but man has other faculties
which will more than outweigh this power
of scent in wood creatures. If man possessed
the power of scent he would be so superior to
the animal that the poor creature wouldn't
have the slightest chance to protect itself.
With this scent the man would know just
where the animal was the minute he entered the
woods.

I do not think the average man or woman
realizes how foxy and tricky an animal can
be. I have met wild animals that I know can
outwit and fool the most intelligent human
being in the world.

After the first fall of snow in the hunting
season when tracking is perfect no animal
can move in the wilderness without leaving a
trail. Anyone who knows the woods and ani-
mals can judge the character of an animal by
its tracks, just as it is possible to tell the char-
acter of a man by the signature of his pen.

132 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

Like many others who have lived a great
deal in the forest, I understand the tracks of
animals. If I strike a deer track in the snow
I can tell by that track, without catching a
glimpse of the deer, just how far ahead of me
it is and what it intends to do. I know whether
or not the creature is aware that someone is
following on its trail. I can tell whether it is
a female or a male, and how large the animal is.

An animal moves and acts in different ways
in different conditions of weather. I have made
a study of these peculiarities.

With a thorough understanding of tracks,
a hunter or trapper is able to leave- the tracks
themselves and go in another direction, know-
ing full well that he will either head off the
creature or come again upon its tracks by the
short cut. In this way he is able to creep up
on a deer or a moose a whole mile by diverging,
perhaps, the tenth of a mile. The experienced
woodsman knows perfectly well without seeing
it at all, whether the animal will swing to the
right or left.

When a track stops in places and zigzags
around, it is an indication that the animal has
been feeding. Whenever I come upon a track
like that I always stop and wait and listen
before going ahead again. The creature ahead

ANIMAL STUDIES 133

likewise waits from time to time and listens
intently. It is always conscious of its back
tracks after the first fall of snow, and watches
them carefully. A man has got to be mighty
clever to follow an animal even on the snow.
However, it can be done.

It is interesting to note the character of
the tracks of a deer when it is getting ready
to find a place to lie down. The deer will go
on until it reaches a high spot, where it will
lie down, whether it be fair or stormy, at
the foot of a spruce or cedar, and always with
its head facing its back tracks. The lay of
the land will tell you when you are approaching
such a resting place. Nine times out of ten,
when you are following such a track, you startle
the deer, though you never see it. It had made
too clever preparations.

A deer makes it a point to be in a position to
see you long before you are able to catch a
glimpse of it, and a sight of you is a sign for
the deer to be off in a hurry. Not that they are
watching for human beings all the time — they
do not know whether the creature following
them is a person or an animal. But they are
always on the alert for the wild-cat — their
greatest enemy. Deer listen all the time
for the wild-cat, which can steal through the

134 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

woods without a sound. No matter how big
a deer is, a wild-cat will always take a chance.

Now a word of explanation as to how a
man can determine certain things from the
trail of an animal. To tell the size of the
creature that has just gone on before him, one
doesn't have to study its tracks. He studies
the trees and saplings along the trail and
watches for places where the bark is rubbed.
A big bull moose, for instance, cannot go be-
tween trees that are not wide apart. He al-
ways rubs the bark as he passes his antlers
through. If these rubs on the bark are high
up you know that the animal is a good-sized
fellow.

The freshness of the tracks will tell you about
how far ahead the animal is.

After following a deer for a few miles you
will well establish in your mind the general
direction it is journeying. If the tracks swing
to the right, apparently undisturbed, this swing
can be accounted for by the lay of the land.
A deer is never anxious to climb hills. If there
is a hill ahead you know that the deer will
not climb it unless it is absolutely necessary.
It will select the easiest trail, turning, therefore,
to the left or right of that hill.

Perhaps this particular section of the conn-

ANIMAL STUDIES 18^

try has been used for a natural game trail for
the past fifteen years. The experienced woods-
man knows whether or not it turns to the
right or left of that hill, so he can figure
out about where the trail will appear some-
where farther along. That is where the hunter
takes his short cut and heads the trail off, so
to speak. Presently he comes across the tracks
again, and they are much fresher. He is nearer
the animal.

However, the animal is not asleep all this
time. Perhaps it has become aware that it is
being followed. Then starts a battle of cun-
ning between the man and the deer.

Assuming that progress is hard for the deer,
and that it realizes only too well that the man
is gaining, time and time again it will make
a quick circle to the right or left, going right
around you, and, taking up its own back tracks
again, follow you at a safe distance.

Presently the hunter comes to the back tracks
again and realizes he has been outwitted !

In the meantime the deer goes along the back
tracks for some distance, finally giving a big
jump off toward the timberlands where it
makes good its getaway.

Bears are even more tricky.

During my two months' experiment I saw

136 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

in all seven or eight bears. The northern Maine
country is full of them.

Sometimes when I went up onto high places
where I could get a good view of the surround-
ing territory I would see bears in the distance.
Once, in the burnt lands, I saw two or three
grouped together, feeding on berries.

The bear is classified as a sleeper. In the
fall bears den up and do not come out again
until spring. Coming forth from their long
winter's sleep they are lank and hungry, and
immediately start hunting for anything in the
way of food. They will eat almost anything
they come across.

Bears go to the ponds and streams and fish
for trout; and when the berries begin to ripen
in the burnt lands and clearings, they eat their
fill. They are such gluttons that they will
hang around those berry bushes until they are
scarcely able to move from overfeeding. And
they never leave the berry country until the
berries are all cleaned out.

When the frost of fall comes along bears
change their diet to nuts and acorns, which
means their moving farther in among the trees.

Bears are the worst scavengers of the north
woods, because they are ready to devour
anything and everything. Carrion is a luxury

ANIMAL STUDIES 137

to them; and stale fish, such as I baited my
bear trap with, is one of their favorite dishes.

It is a difficult thing to know just what bears
are going to do next. They often eat one an-
other, and will even consume their own pups!

As an example of the appetite of a bear I am
going to relate to you a true northern Maine
woods bear story.

An Indian guide, whom I have known
for years, was conducting a party of prominent
New York sportsmen through the forest. Be-
sides other kinds of hunting they had set several
bear traps at different points along the way.

Revisiting one of these traps a day later,
they found it gone. The Indian guide, who,
by the way, was a bear expert, after making a
short investigation, made an interesting dis-
covery. The New York sportsmen who had
hunted for years could see that the clog had
been broken and they also noticed that there
were bear tracks leading off toward the north.

However, the Indian guide saw more than
that. He saw other tracks mixed up with those
of the bear that had been caught in the trap.
He also discerned that these tracks belonged
to another bear, and that this other bear
had but three legs. Careful observation showed
the mark of the stump in the ground.

138 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

Then the guide explained to the sportsmen
that the three-legged bear was after the bear
in the trap, and that if they did n't hurry they
wouldn't find either one. The men laughed
at him good-humoredly, but ^his seriousness
made them hit up their pace.

Following Ithose tracks for an hour, they
presently arrived at the foot of a high spruce
where they found the trap and the half-eaten
carcass of a bear, with its skin entirely ripped
off.

The sportsmen were amazed. Hidden signs
plainly told the tragedy of a battle to the death
to the Indian guide. Then he pointed out to
the men how the trapped bear had dragged the
heavy log clog and trap after him, while being
chased through the woods by the three-legged
bear to this spruce tree. He vowed that in
an effort to shake off his tormentor the bear had
climbed a tree, still dragging the ten-foot log clog
after him. Broken branches showed that the
chase had led to the highest branches, fully
thirty feet in the air, and that there a mad
battle had occurred, which resulted in the
crashing of the two animals to the ground below.
In the subsequent fight the smaller bear,
attached to the trap clog, was killed.

The whole affair had happened within about

ANIMAL STUDIES 139

an hour's time, for signs at the place where
the trap had been set originally showed that
the animals had only been gone a few minutes.

After the battle the three-legged bear had
skinned his enemy and gobbled half the carcass.

Perhaps one of the most remarkable features
about this story is the fact that the trapped
bear, not weighing himself a great deal over
seventy-five pounds, had dragged that heavy-
clog attached to his trapped foot across country
and then up a spruce tree.

The bear is afraid of human beings. He is
a great coward. A child could frighten one
badly.

Unless a person interferes with them on
their own grounds in the mating season bears
are practically harmless. At other times they
will run away from you.

Speaking of greediness brings to mind one
interesting phase of my experience with animals
and birds during my two months' isolation.
It concerns the moose bird, which is commonly
known as the Canadian jay. These birds were
literally a nuisance to me. They first made
their appearance shortly after I had killed
my bear. A pair of them came and scolded
at me from a nearby tree.

I could n't lay down a piece of meat for one

140 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

minute but that they would dart down and
snatch it away. If I was not on the alert they
would snatch it from under my very hand.

After a little the two grew to four, and at
one time I had ten of these birds watching my
every move. From time to time I had given
them scraps; but I realized I must put a stop
to it or else be bothered to death.

The days had been passing rapidly by, and
no longer fearing molestation from men in
the Lost Pond district I returned there.

In the meantime I had been living any-
where in the forest, sleeping in the open or
under rude shelters, thrown together in a mo-
ment.

My cedar-bark leggings had long since worn
out, and I traveled about during the daytime
with absolutely nothing on. I did n 't need
protection for my legs now, for they had become
as tough as leather.

When I reached my old lean-to I found I
was practically out of food, so I was obliged
to go on another foraging expedition. When
you have obtained things once it never seems
very difficult to get them another time. I
soon rounded up some more trout, driving them
from the big pools into my own small artificial
pools.

A BIRCH-BARK MESSAGE TO THE OTTTSmE WORLD, WRITTEN BY THE
AUTHOR IN THE WOODS WITH BURNT STICKS FROM HIS FIRES

ANIMAL STUDIES 141

September was passing away, but the bears
had not entirely cleaned out all the berries.
I managed to find enough to supply my needs.
I never went hungry.

Each night I slept about six hours, and] [found
that this was all the sleep I required.

I had a desire to accomplish some one
big thing while I lived in the wilderness and
the biggest thing I could think of was to paint
a picture in color right there in the forest.
How I went about this task I will tell in a
later chapter. This idea took complete pos-
session of me. I figured out how I could get
my color, my brushes, and even paper right
out of the material at hand in the woods.
Then I set about making experiments.

In my enthusiasm I often forgot to eat.

This ambition helped me mentally, and I
did not suffer so much with thoughts of the
outside world while the idea held me.

Finally I found that I was neglecting myself.
I was getting thin. Out of sheer necessity I
was forced to look after myself and let other
things go.

I contented myself with writing an occasional
message on birch bark for the outside world,
or drawing a charcoal sketch on the same ma-
terial.

142 ALONE IN THE W1LDEKJN±:SS

At least once a week, no matter how far out
in the wilderness I might have wandered, I
made a trip to the cache to leave my messages.
Once I left a pair of cedar-bark shoes, which
I had discarded. I wondered what people
would think of them.

Each morning I had no idea where I would
be at night. Some nights found me at Big
Spencer, others at my lean-to on Bear Moun-
tain, and occasionally I went back into the woods
near Lost Pond.

Twice, out of necessity when I was hungry,
I was forced to shoot a squirrel with my bow
and arrow. I roasted the meat, and it was good
eating.

Many times I saw rabbits, but I made no
effort to trap them. I did n't need them. But
necessity compelled me to bring down several
partridges. While I caught a few with the slip
noose, as I have already described, I shot quite
a number with my bow and arrow. The arrow
would go clear through the bird and pin it to
the ground.

Already the woods began to show signs of the
approaching fall. Splashes of brilliant color
on the foliage gave relief from the constant
monotony of green and black. An occasional
light frost made the air wonderfully invigor-

ANIMAL STUDIES 143

ating. Even during such days I needed no
covering. My skin was so tanned and inured
to the weather that I did not feel the cold.
At night I had my bearskin.

One day, while strolling along the trail, I
found a deer horn, which evidently had been
shed the year before. Its peculiar shape gave
me visions of a crude knife, so I began labo-
riously to scrape it. First I filed the horn in
two by means of a sharp rock. Then I filed off
one sharp prong and ground the blade to a keen
edge with other stones.

In order to make a good grip I stripped the
inner lining from the outer covering of some
birch bark, which has the appearance of thin
raffia. With this fine shred a fairly substantial
cord can be woven. I wound the handle of
my new knife with this cord.

Later on I found another horn, but I did n't
utilize it, simply carrying it around for
luck.

My horn knife proved most practical and
useful. It would easily cut meat, and later
when I made my clothing it came in handy.

I was growing to be more and more a part of
the forest every day. Whenever I needed any-
thing I simply went and hunted for it. It was
always waiting for me somewhere.

144 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

Even the mental side was losing its grip
on me.

I was, in truth, a primitive man. I had gone
back from the land of civilization to the forest
of antiquity.

CHAPTER X

KILLING A DEER WITH THE HANDS

Sometimes we accomplish things before we
realize it. The story of my getting a deer is
very much like this. The incident happened
just before dark while I was walking along a
little trail close to the shore of a small pond.

Suddenly I heard a noise in the water ahead
of me. I stopped still, and presently heard
the noise again. Then I walked on toward
the shore until I reached an old spruce tree,
whose roots were growing up on one side of the
trail. Of course, any game going through the
water to drink had to avoid these roots.

All around me was a thicket of spruce and
cedar. From where I stood I could see quite an
opening down toward the water. First I
noticed ripples on the water, and then a little
farther out I saw a young spike-horn buck
feeding on the bottom grass.

When I first saw him I did not have the slight-
est idea of catching him. The thought never
entered my head.

145

146 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

I knew, that if the deer were frightened he
would run m the opposite direction from the
sound that startled him. The wind was blowing
from him to me, so he could not get my scent.
I picked up a piece of spruce root and threw
it out over the deer's back into the water.
The animal threw up his head, looked around
in all directions, and then started out of the
water up the trail toward me.

I picked up a stone and threw this out into
the water, the second splash starting him along
farther toward the root behind which I was
hiding.

Carefully judging the time and distance, as
soon as he got opposite me I caught him by
the forward feet and down he fell in the trail.
Then I caught him by the horns, and with my
weight on his back I got control of him. I
gave a quick twist and broke his neck.

I want to apologize for killing the deer in
that manner, but, under the circumstances,
it was the only way I had. I needed the skin
badly.

It was so dark now I decided not to skin him
that night. I pulled the body up a little to one
side of the trail, and left it there until morn-
ing.

Back at my camp that night I stirred up my

KILLING A DEER WITH THE HANDS 147

banked j&re and sat down to think. I did n 't
give the deer much thought. I said to my-
self, "Now IVe got another skin.'' It was a
small deer, but if I did n't waste too much
of the skin making moccasins I would have
enough, with bearskin and deerskin I had
taken from the wild-cats, to cover myself
completely.

The next day I went and got this skin. Be-
sides it, I took some meat and all the sinew
back to my camp. Some of the meat I ate,
some I dried, and some I kept in the spring
for several days where it would be cold.

Then I started to work making my wilder-
ness suit of clothes. First I made my buck-
skin chaps. I doubled the skin and wound it
around my thigh to see if it would be big
enough to go around. I found that it would,
but that it would not be quite long enough.
However, with the other deerskin I could add
pieces to lengthen it.

After shaping the chaps I put the skins on to
a piece of wood and began punching holes
along the edge with the sharp point of a deer
horn. These I laced together with strips of
rawhide.

I made my moccasins by first wetting the raw-
hide and putting my foot on it to get the

148 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

length. I used two pieces for each moccasin,
turning the bottom piece up a little and stitch-
ing it to the top piece while it was on my foot.
This raised the stitching above the ground
where it would not wear out. When the wet
rawhide dried they were a perfect fit.

Whenever I wore the bearskin I slung it
over my shoulder and held it together in
front with thongs.

There was nothing wonderful about killing
that deer. Many people have seemed to marvel
about that incident, and some, not under-
standing the woods, have openly doubted the
story. To anyone who knows the ways and
habits of animals such a thing would not seem
wonderful. Those who have hunted and lived
among the wilds do not think so for a minute.
It is really of such little importance that a man
who understands such things would not even
mention it. In fact, not until I had been out
of the forest for nearly a week did I speak
of the affair at all, and then only when I was
asked to explain where I got my deer.

Skepticism is based largely on ignorance.
When a 'man hears something that he does
not know about he is either broad-minded
enough to learn more about it, or else an-
nounces that he does not believe it at all.

KILLING A DEER WITH THE HANDS 149

A man of the woods might ask you something
like this: "Did you have a gun?"

"No."

"Well, that's pretty good. You were lucky
to get your deer that way." He wouldn't
ask any more questions because he would
understand. He wouldn't ask you how the
deer acted, because he would know how it
acted. Nor would he ask how much strength
was used, knowing how much strength was
necessary to kill a, deer in that manner. He
would also know that if you saw a deer too
big to handle you would not tackle it.

Only a short time after I came from the
woods I had occasion to talk with Chief Nicola
of the old Penobscot tribe of Indians at Bangor,
Maine, about a similar instance. He told me
that he had killed a two-hundred-pound buck
in a deer yard in the same way. He told the
story as if it were a very ordinary occurrence,
and no enthusiasm backed his words. The
deer was caught by the antlers and thrown to
the ground where the chief strangled him.

In winter when the snow is deep the deer
or moose has difficulty in getting about. They
yard together, walking about in furrows worn
by themselves. A man on snowshoes can run
them down very quickly.

150 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

There are many different ways to kill a deer.
In the yard you can kill him with a club.
You can throw him and break his neck, just
as the cowboys in the west throw a steer and
break its neck. Then again you can strangle
the animal by throwing your whole weight
against him.

Talking with Andrew Sockalexis, the Indian
marathon runner, after my return to civili-
zation, brought to light another experience
similar to mine. This Indian had run down a
deer on snowshoes in the winter and killed the
animal with his hands alone.

I feel pity instead of anger toward those
critics who do not believe simply because they
do not know.

The reader remembers the story in a pre-
ceding chapter of Andrew Douglas having his
picture taken with a moose. At that time, later
in the week, we came upon another deer yard
near Big Jim Pond. There were six bucks
herded together there, all of about the same
size. Here was a fine opportunity for photo-
graphs. The animals were walking about,
breaking through the crust into the deep
snow. This made travel very slow for them.

It was the easiest thing in the world to
catch them. By scattering, we rounded up the

THE author's first SHOES, MADE OF THE INNER LINING
BARK OF THE CEDAR

KILLING A DEER WITH THE HANDS 151

creatures quickly, but in the mixup they got
away and all escaped but one. He rah past
Andrew, close to me. I threw myself at him,
grabbed him around the neck, and threw him.

Down we went together, and a terrible rumpus
followed. He got his forward feet through my
snowshoes and pinned me to the ground. I
tried my best to break away before he could
cut and slash me with his feet. Finally, as I
couldn't release myself, I hung on to his
neck for dear Hfe, holding his head down as
close to me as possible. In that position he
could n't hurt me. I held on until I could feel
the strength leaving my hands. Then I hol-
lered, "Boys, come and take this deer off!"

Andrew and Harry Pierce only laughed.

"On the level, boys," I shouted louder, "he
is going to get me!"

Evidently my tone impressed them, for they
stopped laughing and came over and pulled
the deer from my body. We let the animal
go. My camera and snowshoes were smashed
to pieces.

The deer fights with its forward feet more than
it does with its horns. In winter a deer does
not have horns to fight with. Summer is
the mating season, and I suppose nature pro-
vided them with antlers at this time to pro-

152 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

tect themselves. In the mating season the
horns of these animals are perfect and they
are always ready for a fight. They will re-
sist any interference from other animals. But
in winter they yard together and are peaceful,
never engaging in battle, for at this time
they shed their horns and are harmless.

I have obtained some remarkable photo-
graphs of these animals in the yards in winter
under the jacklight.

Jacklight photography is real sport, and
when it is all over the animal is not harmed
in the slightest degree.

In jacklighting, first of all it is necessary to
have a dark night. Then you need a canoe
and a jacklight on a staff in the bow. Next,
a man who understands paddling is absolutely
essential — one who when he dips his paddle
in the water will do it so quietly you cannot
even hear a ripple. All guides know how to do
this.

Set your camera with the shutter open on a
box above the light. Then you go paddling
noiselessly down the stream, with a broad
cycle of light sweeping the shore.

Unless a beaver swimming along makes a
dive, and in plunging makes a noise with his
tail as he goes down, there is absolutely nothing

KILLING A DEER WITH THE HANDS 153

to break the silence. That noise does not
scare the other animals because they know
what it stands for.

If the animals on the shore do not get your
scent you can go very close to them with the
canoe.

The first thing you see is two balls of fire in
the circle of light on the bank. As you come
nearer, the form of an animal will take shape
around those balls of fire. It may be a deer,
a moose, a caribou, a bear, or it may be a
crane — in fact, any animal or bird in the woods.

When you feel that you are close enough, pull
the flashlight and you have your picture.

Under the spell of the jacklight the animal
stands fascinated, and it is a most cowardly
thing to kill one under such conditions. There
is a law against doing this — one of the few
good game laws.

With the moose, especially the cow moose,
it is different. The jacklight enrages the
animal and she bristles up and always pre-
pares to fight it. She will set herself and
wait until the canoe gets within about ten
feet of her, when she will charge at it.

In such a case the man in the stern of the
canoe must know his business well. The min-
ute the moose charges he shoves the canoe

154 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

ahead a couple of lengths, while at the same
instant the man handling the jack snaps out
the light.

As soon as the canoe is out of danger the
light is thrown on again and the moose gets
ready for another charge. Exhilarating sport
follows, but if the man in the stern is not on
to his job the sport may turn out to be dan-
gerous.

The mention of a moose charging a canoe
brings to my mind an adventure I experienced
years ago in the Maine country in the daytime.

Andrew Douglas, the moose expert, was with
me, and we were paddling upstream above
Fish Pond, at the head of Spencer Lake. It
was early morning. As we rounded a bend in
the river, I heard a sound a little distance ahead.

Andrew heard it too, and we both stopped
paddling to listen. The sound of something
thrashing about in the alders on the bank
came again, and we again started upstream to
investigate.

I was in the stern and Andrew was in the
bow.

"I wonder what that is, Andrew?"

"It is a moose, and he is hung up in the
mud. "

We approached nearer, and presently we

KILLING A DEER WITH THE HANDS 155

could see the alders swaying back and forth
with the weight of something. Then we caught
sight of the animaPs head.

We came very close and watched him struggle
to release himself. In one of his lunges he ex-
tricated himself a little, and then he saw us.
He promptly began to blame his trouble on us.
This was easy to see, because the bristles on his
neck began to rise and he wanted to fight.

Andrew and I just sat there and laughed at
him. He was one of the biggest and maddest
moose I have ever seen, and he thrashed about
and made an awful fuss. We watched him for
some time, and all the while the creature was
making good headway toward liberty.

After awhile a savage lunge brought him
pretty well out, and I said to Andrew, ^*We
better get out of this."

"Oh, we are all right," he answered.

So we sat there awhile longer, until the ani-
mal was practically free.

"Now we had better get a move on," said
Andrew.

I dipped my paddle, and started to swing
the canoe downstream. The craft turned all
right, but it kept swinging around in a circle.
The harder I paddled the faster it went around.
It moved like a wheel on a pivot.

156 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

The moose struck the water with a splash, and
charged toward us.

''What's the matter? What's the matter?
Why don't you shove the canoe off?" shouted
Andrew.

"We're hung up on a stump," I hollered
back.

Andrew arose in the bow and walked down
to my end of the canoe. This threw the bow
high up out of water, and we were released
from the stump.

The moose was close now, and we had
hardly time to dig our paddles deep and just
nose away from him. Even then he swam
madly after us.

We were in a beaver pond, and, in our anxiety
to get away, we ran on to another stump close
to the dam. It was lucky we had opened
some on the moose, for as we came on this second
stump we were capsized and thrown into the
water.

On came the moose. We swam up and got
hold of the canoe, just managing to push it
over the dam and follow after, when the
moose arrived. The big fellow meant business,
but we had escaped under his nose.

There is one interesting thing about these
animals of the forest that many hunters have

KILLING A DEER WITH THE HANDS 157

noticed but have never thought very much
about. It concerns their wonderful instinct
in regard to the attitude of men toward them.

In the off-season men in the woods will
come upon all kinds of game and, under such
conditions, will remark, ^^Why is it, when I
have n't my gun with me, I always have great
chances for shots?''

The answer is simple. These animals know
when a man is in the woods to kill them. They
can feel that he is there for that purpose. At
those times they keep out of his way. But
if a man is in the woods without a gun, the
animals know it, and they do not show fear.
That is why the man without a gun in the
forest sees so much game, while with a gun he
sees so little.

No animal in the woods would fear man if
he left his killing instruments behind him.
In fact they want to become friendly, and
through curiosity will come to man. But
man can never tame them if he goes to them.

I saw many wild creatures in the wilderness
during my experiment, and they came to
me, knowing that I was their friend. They
knew that I would not harm them, and they
wondered just what kind of an animal I
was.

158 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

That is why the red deer and the white fawn
would eat out of my hand.

That is why partridges actually followed me
and allowed me to touch them.

I never want to see an animal harmed, unless
it is through absolute necessity. Even under
those conditions there is a regret when I am
forced to kill one.

CHAPTER XI

WILDERNESS ADVENTURES

The domain in which I lived during my ex-
periment brought back to my mind many inci-
dents of bygone days, for it was in this north-
ern Maine country, a little to the north and
west, that I had guided and trapped so many
times before.

About eighteen years ago I had a trapping
line up in that hunting country. The line
was about twenty miles long. It was in winter.
On all such lines as this there is a home camp,
and it was at this home camp of mine that I
spent four or five nights out of the week. The
rest of the time I would stop anywhere along
the line in rough lean-tos, which I had built
during various trips. When night overtook
me and I was far from the home camp I would
head for one of these temporary shelters.

The time came when it was necessary for
me to kill a deer. I needed the meat, and also
some of the hide to make new fillings for my
snowshoes. This rawhide is the best filling

150

160 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

for snowshoes. To get this hide it is necessary
to kill some fur-bearing animal.

In spite of its being out of season I was thus
forced by circumstances to take a chance and
get a deer.

There was an old man who lived near a set-
tlement, not a great way from where my camp
was. I knew that he could not kill a deer, and
that he would be glad to have some deer meat.
So I gave him half of the animal I had killed.
He said he would not say anything about it,
and thanked me. He and his wife ate the meat.

Some time during the winter, while I was trap-
ping, the game wardens came up in that sec-
tion of the country and ran across signs of
deer killing. Immediately they went to the
old man and asked him if he knew who had
been killing deer out of season. He replied,
"Joe Knowles is the only man who has been in
this section. He has a trapping line, and if
anyone has been killing deer it is he."

They vowed they would get me and bring me
out and fine me.

One day I saw strange snowshoe sloates
crossing my own. I wondered whose they
were. The first thought that came to me was
of the game wardens. I followed these sloates
far enough to see that they were hunting for

WILDERNESS ADVENTURES 161

something. I kept on until signs told me that
the entrails and what was left of that deer had
been found. Then the snowshoe tracks went
back on their trail and I knew that the wardens
were after me.

They could n't follow the trail to my camp,
as I had looked out for that. So they went
back to the village — as I afterwards found
out — and told, the people that a deer had been
killed in the woods, in the section where Knowles
was trapping, and that they were going to
catch him and fine him.

It was on their next trip that the wardens
came to the house of the old man, and the old
man told them that it was I who was killing
deer.

Then they came up to my camp. I saw them
coming, and went out to the door to meet them
and welcome them. In the little entry I had
a quarter of the deer hanging up. There was
an old mackinaw hanging there too. These
wardens were so near the door that I had no
time to do anything. I hung the mackinaw
over the deer meat just about a second before
they came in.

*'This is nice weather," they greeted.

"Yes," I answered.

"How are you getting along trapping?"

162 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

"All right/'

I then asked them to stop and have a little
dinner with me. We had something to eat, and
they never mentioned what they had come
for; but I knew and they knew that I knew.
They didn't ask to search around, but saw
nothing and yet were not satisfied.

Finally they said they guessed they would
go and make a short cut to the settlement
where they had come from. I knew that though
they might start in that direction, they would
not follow it for long.

Another deer I had killed was close by. I
had not cut him up, but had hung him in an old
shack near my camp.

The game warden started off, but, as I ex-
pected, soon took the direction of the old
shack. Nothing but a dog could have fol-
lowed the track that led up to that old shack.
I had dragged the carcass over the crust early
in the morning, when it was so hard it left no
trace of the work.

Even if they saw the buck in there, there
would be nothing by which they could directly
connect me with the killing of the animal.

I wanted to watch them closely, and, not
being able to do so from the ground floor of
my camp, I went up to the top and looked out

WILDERNESS ADVENTURES 163

across the clearing. After the wardens had got
some distance away they wheeled around and
headed straight for the shack. Then I saw them
go inside. Of course, I knew that that meant
they would find the deer.

I said to myself, "111 have some fun with
these fellows." I took my gun and through
a crack fired several shots at the top of the
shack. As the wood splintered you should
have seen those men hustle away from that
quarter!

That was the end of it for that night, but
I knew they would return the next morning to
arrest me.

In the morning, before daylight, I got up
and put on my snowshoes. Then I went
over to the old shack, took down the deer,
and placed it on a toboggan. The crust was
as hard as wood, and I knew that neither my
snowshoes nor the dragging of the toboggan
would leave any traces.

I dragged the carcass about a mile into the
woods and buried it under the crust even
before the sun had risen over the top of the
mountain.

My judgment of the night before proved
to be just right, for that morning the wardens
appeared again. They were reenforced in

164 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

numbers. Instead of coming to my camp as
they should have done, they went down to the
shack in the clearing.

It was a funny situation just then, for, when
they discovered the deer gone, the men whom
they had brought with them thought that the
wardens had been lying to them. They hunted
around for tracks, but of course there were n't
any, and that fact only got the original game
wardens in worse trouble than ever.

Thus far they did n't have the slightest proof
against me.

Those wardens who had really seen the deer
there were so mad that they went down to the
house of the old man again and made a deal
with him to appear as a witness against me.

This news reached me very quickly, and I
knew that it meant that I was to be watched
in the woods.

Knowing that the wardens knew my partic-
ular snowshoe sloates I started to make a differ-
ent pair. I put on these new shoes and started
for a deer yard. I continued to walk through
this deer yard until I reached a road that led
to the settlement. When I got to this logging
road I took off the snowshoes and hung them
with their trails forward, and started back over
the same ground. This made another trail,

WILDERNESS ADVENTURES 165

the two sets of tracks giving the appearance
of two men having gone to the settlement.

It was n 't long before the wardens discovered
these tracks, and as they went through the deer
yard it set them thinking. They took the bait
completely.

Some distance from my camp I took off my
new double-end snowshoes and hid them under
the crust, taking out my own regular pair
which I had left there.

A short time later the wardens appeared
at my camp and asked if I had seen any stran-
gers in that part of the country. I told them
that I had not. I asked no questions, and
did n 't appear a bit curious. They left me,
very much puzzled.

After awhile I struck out again, but this
time I started with the tails of my shoes for-
ward. It was snowing hard.

Determined to find the man or men who
were killing game out of season the wardens
were constantly on the job. They found my
last sloates and began to follow them. How-
ever, they followed them in the opposite direc-
tion from that in which I was going.

I learned afterwards that they lost the trail
because the snow filled my back tracks so
quickly. Because of that, they thought the

166 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

man ahead of them was a whirlwind on snow-
shoes.

One morning a man whom I knew in the
woods came down to my camp and told me
how affairs were going.

"I know it is necessary for you to kill a deer
once in awhile, '^ he said, ^^but they are de-
termined to get you, and if they do it will
mean a heavy fine.''

"All right,'' I retorted.

Then he told me that the old man who had
"squealed" on me was going to be a witness.
That very night I went down to see the old
gentleman just for the sake of having a heart-
to-heart talk with him. I found both him
and his wife at home, and they looked kind of
flustered when I made my appearance.

"Look here,'' I began, "I understand you
are going to be a witness against me for killing
a deer out of season."

"But they have summoned me," the old
man excused himself, "and I have got to go.
I don't want to do anything that will injure
you but I shall have to tell the truth. "

*^What do you know?" I questioned.

"I know that you have been killing deer."

"You know that because I have told you so, "
I broke in. "You have had some of that deer

WILDERNESS ADVENTURES 167

meat and have eaten it. It will be pretty
tough on me, and I shall have to pay quite a
fine. Have you got any grievance against
me?''

"Oh, no," he replied. "But a man has to go
to court when he is summoned. And a man
must tell the truth.''

"All right," I agreed, "but as long as you
are going to tell the truth do not forget to tell
the court that I gave you half of a deer."

"No, I won't forget," answered the old
man.

"And when I get ready to pay my fine you
get ready to pay part of it."

"No — no," he cried, greatly excited.

Then I asked him if he had a copy of the
game laws of the State of Maine. He searched
around until he found a copy, stoutly main-
taining all the while that he was in no way
responsible for any part of my fine.

However, I quickly showed him where he
had been an accessory after the fact, and that,
therefore he was liable. He "backed water"
pretty quick, and later when the wardens came
to take him to court he refused to go, insisting
that he knew nothing whatever about the
matter.

This turn of affairs made the wardens more

168 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

determined than ever to get bona fide evidence
against me.

Putting my snowshoes on backside-to fooled
them every time, and when they thought
they were on the trail of someone they were
going in the opposite direction.

Some months later on, after the affair had
died down, these same wardens came up to
my camp at my invitation. We had a good
time fox hunting and got more or less confi-
dential. They told me that they knew I had
been killing game out of season, and admitted
they had been months trying to get me.

A few years afterward the chief warden who
had been after me in the deer-killing episode
came down to my camp as my guest. One
morning he discovered in a corner among
some old traps my pair of snowshoes with the
tails hung forward. As I watched him looking
them over I saw that he connected them with
those strange tracks he had seen years before.
He was doing a lot of thinking.

Finally he referred to the shoes, making the
comment that such a pair would leave tracks
as if one were walking backwards. I began to
laugh and then told him I had walked that way
many times.

**Joe," he cried, "I want to ask you just

WILDERNESS ADVENTURES 169

one question. What did you do with that
deer that was hanging up in the old shack? '*

"What deer? What shack?'' I feigned.

I never told him.

I am now going to relate another story to
you, one which came back to me after fifteen
years while I was crossing Spruce Mountain
on my way to Canada during my recent two-
months experiment.

It was in this Spruce Mountain country that
the incident occurred. The hunting season
had long since gone by and it was about the
first of March.

For the purpose of taking photographs of
some moose, Andrew Douglas, the most famous
moose hunter in the history of the State of
Maine; Harry Pierce, owner of the King and
Bartlett Camps, and myself started off through
the woods on snowshoes.

Andrew was about sixty years old. We had
left everything to him in regard to locating the
moose. We made preparations to stay two
or three weeks, and I took along my five-by-
seven camera.

During the first two days we got pretty well
into the woods, but not a sign of a moose did
we see. This fact made Andrew so grouchy that
he refused even to speak to us. When we asked

170 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

him when he expected to find a moose yard he
wouldn't answer. He got so mad that he
tried to walk us to death on snowshoes.

However, we followed his sloates wherever
they went those two days. He was getting
madder every minute, and finally it got so he
wouldn't stop to eat lunch at noon. He was
hunting for a moose yard with a determi-
nation that was unbeatable.

Harry and I talked a lot as we crunched along,
and we had almost lost our confidence in the
ability of the old man.

The third night came on, and, as on the pre-
ceding nights, we dug a hole in the snow, which
we filled with boughs, putting more boughs
on top, and then built a fire in front of the
crude shelter.

The next morning there was n't a word
spoken. We fried a few extra flapjacks to eat
for lunch, and once more got under way.

I asked Harry if he had the courage to ask
Andrew which direction we were going that
day. Harry took a chance and put the ques-
tion, whereupon Andrew growled back at him,
'^None of your business!"

We decided that we could stand it as long as
he could, so followed on. We knew he would n 't
stop until he had located a moose yard.

WILDERNESS ADVENTURES 171

Finally we came to the shore of a little pond.
In silence we crossed the pond and went into
a thicket on the opposite side. Following
wherever the old man led us we found our-
selves taking a circle to the left. Presently
we came out on the shore of this same pond
again. Then Andrew stopped. He spoke
for the first time in days.

*^ Harry," he said, "I have always told my
boys about this pond on this side of the moun-
tain and they would never believe it."

"Why, this is the same pond we crossed a
little while ago," Harry replied, looking inter-
rogatively at me.

I nodded yes.

"We have not crossed this pond," declared
the old man firmly.

"Why, yes, we have. Don't you remember
— just a little while back — "

"No, sir, we did not cross this particular
pond. Did we, Joe?" he appealed to me.

"I think we did," I said.

"I teU you we did n't," he reiterated.

Then I told him I would go up to the other end
of the pond to see if I could find our tracks,
and as I started off he growled something after
me about nonsense. I found the tracks all
right, and when I got back Harry and I were

172 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

in a position to dictate. Andrew had got
turned all around.

We went on until we reached Spotted Spruce
Mountain. Andrew had become so peevish
that he was very far ahead of us out of sight.
Harry and I knew that if we continued down
the side of Spotted Spruce Mountain we would
come upon a comfortable camp. The thought
of that made us temporarily sick of trying to
find moose, for we had been spending nights
out in the snow lean-tos.

We were almost on the point of letting Andrew
go where he pleased and going down to this
camp ourselves, when, away up on the moun-
tain, we heard the faint cry of the old man.

*'Hey! Come on up here! Here 's the
moose!*'

Forgetting all about the camp we started
up the mountain as fast as ever we could go.
Sure enough, he had found a moose yard!
There were a bull and two cows in sight.

**I have found your moose. Now get one,"
cried Andrew as the big bull began to come
toward us.

There was a strange thing about this moose.
In spite of its being winter he had antlers.
Through some freak of nature he had not shed
his horns, as is the natural thing for moose to

WILDERNESS ADVENTURES 173

do in the yarding season. He was the only-
moose I ever saw with full antlers in winter.

The moose turned over toward the burnt
lands and I followed him for about half a
mile, when I finally overtook him. The snow
was pretty deep and the going was difficult
for him. He managed to haul himself ahead
near a little bxmch of trees.

While I was fooling with him Harry and
Andrew came up.

"Where's the moose?'' they demanded.

I pointed over toward the trees.

"Well, why don't you drive him out?" cried
Andrew.

Andrew had a gun in his hand. I had my
camera. After the old man had told me I was
scared to death of the moose, he suggested that I
fell a small cedar on the edge of the clump of trees
down on the animal's back and force him out.

I took my hatchet and felt my way up close
to this cedar. The moose kept watching me
closely; and I watched him closely too.

At last I got a bit acquainted with him and
then I started to chop. As the chips flew toward
him he made two or three attempts to get at
me. He had trampled down quite a square
of snow, and had a fairly good footing from
which he could jump.

174 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

Although I chopped into the side of the tree
nearest the moose I evidently didn't steer
right, for when the cedar fell it landed on
another tree, about two feet above the moose's
back.

This was Andrew's cue to get talking again.
He was disgusted.

"Well, it's too late to get a picture now.
We '11 have to let him go and make a try in the
morning," he announced, starting down the
mountain.

"But the moose will begone in the morning,"
I argued.

"What of it?" Andrew threw back over his
shoulder.

We stayed at the comfortable camp that
night, and the next morning Harry, who had
had enough of chasing around, played sick
just before Andrew and I started off for the
moose yard again.

Of course, when we reached the clump of
trees of the night before the moose had gone.

"I know where he is," declared the old man.

There were no tracks, as it had snowed during

the night. But Andrew headed for a swamp

some two miles away, and shortly we struck

fresh moose tracks.

Pretty soon I came across one of the crea-

WILDERNESS ADVENTURES 175

ture's antlers, which he must have knocked
off against a tree.

Presently we caught sight of him lumbering
along through the snow. He turned from
the swamp into the burnt lands, and as he was
not able to go so fast as I could on my snow-
shoes I soon overtook him. He stopped in his
tracks, ready to fight.

About thirty feet away from the moose
I set up my camera and took several negatives
of him.

Suddenly Andrew asked, "Say, Joe, can't
you get me in that same picture with the
moose?"

"If you can get near enough," I replied.

"I never had my picture taken with a moose
and I would kind of like to."

The old man had his eye on the animal as
he talked, and was gradually edging nearer.
When he was about twenty-five feet from the
creature he stopped.

"This near enough?"

"No — can't see you on the plate."

Andrew crept three or four feet nearer.

"How's this?"

"No good," I shouted.

"Can you get me all right now?" He had
covered just a foot more.

176 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

Meanwhile the moose was glowering at him
and stamping his feet. The bristles on his
main were standing up straight. He was ready
for a fight. This made Andrew mad.

"I'll put a pill into you if you don't mind
your own business," he roared, addressing his
threat to the animal.

"Say, Joe, this is all right, ain't it?"

I told him that I could see him on the glass,
but that he was about as big as a pinhead, and
that no one would be able to tell that it was he.

The old man stood still thinking, with the
moose watching him like a cat. There was a
pine stump sticking up out of the snow on the
other side of the moose, and Andrew's mind
traveled to that stump.

"Can't you swing your camera round this
way?" he asked, taking a wide circle around
the moose to the other side.

I fixed my camera, while Andrew, peeking
round the stump, managed to get within ten
feet of the animal. There they stood on either
side of the big stump, each trying to catch sight
of the other.

I have that picture to this day.

CHAPTE^^ XII

MORE WILDERNESS ADVENTURES

I think sometimes when a man suffers his
mind is apt to go back over his life and linger
on some terrible hardship he has experienced,
and that by making a comparison between the
present suffering and that of the past he finds
some consolation. It is no uncommon thing
to hear a man or woman say, "If I could go
through that I surely can stand this present
trouble. ''

A similar comparison confronted me in the
forest when mental torture threatened to drive
me back to civilization before my time was
up. It was about an experience I had under-
gone many years before in the northern Maine
country, and the remembrance of it on those
lonesome times made me realize that my lot
at present was far less hard in comparison.

I too said to myself, "If I could endure that
night I can surely win this battle with my
mind/' The recollection of that adventure

177

178 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

in the canon, eighteen years before, aided me
greatly in this respect.

At that time I was stopping in a settlement
in northern Maine. One morning I was called
upon to prepare for a sixty-mile ride, being
told at the same time that a young woman
was to be intrusted to my care during the
journey.

It was the latter part of January, and from
six to ten feet of snow covered the ground.
That very morning it was snowing, but it was
a light snow and the air was unusually warm for
that time of year.

After we had ridden for about twenty miles
the snow turned to rain, and the horse began
to slump badly. He could hardly step with-
out sinking deep into the snow. However,
with the slowest kind of progress we crawled
along five miles farther, the footing getting
worse every minute. It was all the horse could
do to stay on the footpath.

Presently we entered a caiion where a
ledge overhung the path. To the left was a
river, which, because of the light snow, had
overflowed its bank, and undermined the deep
snow. While the ice had not gone out of the
river there were many loose cakes ready to
float out at any time.

MORE WILDERNESS ADVENTURES 179

I stopped the horse in order to let him rest
a moment. Time had been moving swiftly
and it was about four o'clock in the afternoon.

The roadway ahead of us appeared like any
other part of the road, but unknown to us the
water had crept in under the crust. We started
forward again, and just as we came to the
lowest part, close to the river, the horse broke
through the surface of the snow into the water,
dragging the sleigh with us in it after him.

The water was up to our waists and it was
bitter cold. It was a wild sort of country.
Just above our heads, hanging from the ledge,
were tons of icicles, measuring anywhere from
seventy-five to one hundred feet long. A bullet
from a revolver would have loosened them, and
it is easy to imagine what would have hap-
pened to us if they had chanced to fall.

Taking off my fur coat I jumped into the
slop up to my waist, and took the girl on my
back. After falling down several times I
managed to make my way with her to solid
ground a bit higher up on one side.

I got the sleigh robe and spread it on the
ground and placed her on it. We were both
soaked through.

It stopped raining and began to get very
cold. I looked back at the horse and saw that

180 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

he was struggling hard to get on solid ground.
He didn't seem to gain an inch. I went
back through the slop and, after cutting the
harness away from the rig, tried to lead him
across the space of slush and snow. The
more I tried the more he became stuck. He
would struggle until exhausted, then he would
rest. In the struggle the sleigh was smashed.

My legs were almost numb and I jumped up
and down as I tried to help the horse.

It was dark by now and soon the moon came
out. The wind sprang up and thin ice began
to form on the water which had already covered
the snow where I was trying to get the horse
out.

To make matters worse the ice began to
cram down the river, and I had to push and
crowd away the big cakes which threatened
every minute to sweep the horse's feet from
under him.

This made the water rise higher, and sev-
eral times during the rush of ice I had to lift
the horse to keep him from falling. Then
I heard the girl cry and I floundered half frozen
back to her. When I saw that she was moving
I knew that she was not freezing, so I went
back to the horse again.

If the horse could only go twenty-five feet

MORE WILDERNESS ADVENTURES 181

he would be all right. I pushed down the
snow and ice and endeavored to make a clear-
ing for the animal, and I worked till I could
scarcely stand up. Many a time I had to hang
on to the horse 's neck to keep myself from fall-
ing. The horse would struggle to release him-
self, and the sharp calks on his shoes cut my
legs and slashed me terribly. I bear those scars
to this day. I was covered with blood and the
only thing I could do was to hang on to the
horse *s neck and rest.

Then I heard the girl cry again and went
back to her. The situation was getting se-
rious in this quarter. She could not stand, she
was so thoroughly chilled through.

I had to pull her around roughly and fairly
lick her. To keep her blood moving fast I
thrashed her in good shape. I would rub snow
on her legs and then I would lick her again.
She would cry with the pain. This beating
and pulling and rubbing kept her from freezing.

Finally I placed her on the robe again and
stood there wondering what I should do. I
said to myself that the nearest house was four
miles away. I knew that I could get there
myself, but by the time I returned the girl
would be dead and probably the horse. I
could not carry the girl. I had not even the

182 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

strength to drag her. So I stood there and
looked at the girl and looked at the horse
and looked at the moon.

I had a revolver in my pocket and I wondered
if perhaps the best way would be to shoot the
suffering horse and take a chance at saving the
girl and myself. But I reasoned that the only
way to save us both was to save the horse, so
back I went to the aid of the poor animal.

By this time ice had formed about the
horse and I had to break it away all around
him. He was very nearly spent but he struggled
ahead with my help and gained a bit. But help-
ing the horse took every bit of strength I pos-
sessed, and I began to think I would have
to call it off.

When it seemed as if I could hardly raise my
hand, and my legs were numb with the bitter
cold water and slush, I hung on to the horse 's
neck and gazed at the moon in despair. I
cursed that moon. I cursed everything in
the world. I said, "There is no God!" I
laughed at the thought of prayer, and instead
of praying cursed and damned everything.

"Nothing I have ever attempted has come
out right," I cried. "I have been up against
it and have had to struggle all my life. This
is my last struggle, and I don't care.

MORE WILDERNESS ADVENTURES 183

"I'll stay with the horse," I continued to
myself. "What is the difference!"

It kept getting colder and colder. The blood
running down my legs where the horse's hoofs
had cut me, together with the cold and my
efforts, made me so weak I could hardly hold on
to the animal's neck. Short rests restored my
strength and I renewed the fight.

Continually slipping and crashing down,
the horse struggled forward. When he fell
I would pull him up again. Then I would hear
the girl cry again.

Once when I reached her side and spoke to
her she did not answer. I lifted her up, but she
fell back flat. Then I beat her as if I were mad
and dragged her about, tearing her clothes.
Then she moaned and screamed, and I knew
that she was still alive.

This exercise with the girl did n't rest me any,
and before I made another journey to the horse
I was forced to get my breath.

Again I was forced to break away the ice.
The horse's legs were numb and I had to
beat him to keep him struggling.

I was suffering excruciating pain and I know
it made a different man of me.

With a superhuman effort the horse got
within ten feet of sure footing. I knew that

184 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

everything hung on the next struggle and I
wondered if the animal and I were equal to it.

First I went back to the girl and beat her
some more. Pulling her out into the snow,
I took the robe away from her and left her half
dead.

Using this robe as a footing I made ready
for the final struggle with the horse. I knew
it was the last, because I realized the animal
would n 't last through another one. Neither
would I.

The struggle began with a thrashing of hoofs
and a lashing about. Suddenly the horse gave
a mighty plunge and his forward feet struck
the solid ground! He stood there trembling
all over. I fell down exhausted and lay there
and rested.

The horse was entirely free now.

When I got my breath I went fearfully to the
side of the girl. I pulled her up and spoke
to her.

'^'m all right,'' she said faintly. ''Don't
wait for me. Go along. Leave me here — I 'm
not suffering any more."

I dropped her back and went after the horse.
Then I led him staggering over to the side of
the girl.

First I would rub the limbs of the girl, and

MORE WILDERNESS ADVENTURES 185

then I would start doing the same thing to
the horse until I could n't rub any more.

Finally I made an attempt to throw the girl
across the horse's back, but to save my life I
couldn't lift her up. I would rest a moment
and then try again.

After trying half a dozen times I managed to
sling her across, and for an instant I thought
the animal was going to cave in under her.
However, he started unsteadily ahead, with me
walking alongside, holding the girl by one of
her legs.

I steered him by the rough places, for I knew
if he slumped it would be all off. For about a
mile our sorry trio continued until we reached
a point where a narrow gauge logging railroad
crossed the footpath. I knew that it would
be easier going between the rails of this track,
so I led the creature onto the track, taking
care that he did not stumble and fall.

We were still three miles from the nearest
house, and it was growing colder every minute.
The next mile seemed an endless one. I con-
stantly shook the girl and talked a steady stream
of nothing to her to keep her mind going.

Then, all of a sudden, I discovered just in
time an opening bridge ahead of us, over
which the horse could not possibly cross.

186 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

It certainly seemed as if fate were blocking
me at every point.

As I stood there I heard away in the distance
the sound of a train coming. Presently I saw
the headlight way back down the track.

In the night the engineers and firemen of these
trains do not look out of the cab windows
because they do not expect to see anything on
the track in winter. I knew they would not
be watching. I tried to lead the horse off the
track but he would not budge an inch.

I saw that something had to be done at
once. I grabbed the girl, dragged her off the
horse's back, and laid her down beside the
track.

Walking along beside the horse during the
last hour had given some of my strength back,
and when the animal would not move a second
time I began to push him with my shoulder.
The train was quite near now, and in my frantic
efforts to get the horse off the rails I reached
down and grabbed his right foot and threw
my whole strength against him. Down he
went with a crash beside the track, and I held
him down by the head so he could not get up.

How I wanted that train to stop just then!
I began to shout. As the train came nearer
my yells were lost in the roar of the engine.

MORE WILDERNESS ADVENTURES 187

It slid past us, and no one knew we were
within a thousand miles. Slowly it disap-
peared in the darkness.

I knew we must get on our way again.
The goal was only two miles away, and
the girl was in danger of freezing every
minute.

It was useless to attempt to cross that bridge
— in fact, it could not be done. I left the
horse and started through the snow by the
side of the track to see how far away the road
might be, and discovered it was only about
thirty-five feet distant.

Heaven knows it was near enough, but there
was a six-foot alder brush which we would have
to go through, and the snow had loaded this
down with a ten-foot deep covering. I began
to dig an opening, and after laborious work
tunneled a place through which the horse
could go to the road.

Upon reaching the girl I found her numb and
still. I began beating her again, dragging her
about on the track and bumping her over the
sleepers.

Then I left the girl again and fought with the
horse. I finally got him through the deep snow
to the tunnel and out on to the road. As soon
as this was done I went back to the girl and

188 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

carried her to the horse and managed to get
her once more on his back.

It didn't seem as if I could go on myself.
I was completely exhausted. I remember
telling the girl it was only a little way to the
house now. I said, '^I can see the house."

I don't remember much that followed for a
spell, but I do know that I suddenly looked
up and really saw the house just ahead. The
sight of it gave me new life.

I kept rubbing the girl's limbs and telling
her we were there, and encouraging her, until
we reached the yard. There was a light in one
of the windows. I staggered up to the door of
the house, fell down on the steps, and rapped.
The door opened and a man appeared. I could
just talk, but I could not stand.

**Take this woman into the house, and the
horse into the stable, " I gasped. ^'Bandage up
his legs and stop the blood. Don't ask me any
questions. I'll tell you later."

The girl was quickly taken into the house.
I felt relieved. My job was done. I relaxed.
We had just made it. I remember as I lay there
on the steps thinking that it was the horse that
saved us.

Presently the man came up to me with a
lantern and helped me into the house. There

MORE WILDERNESS ADVENTURES 189

was an old lady there. I just remember seeing
her for an instant. I fell flat on the floor and
stared into the blazing fireplace.

The old man began to ask me all kinds of
questions.

*^ Don't ask me anything. Leave me alone
for an hour, '^ I begged. I did not want them to
touch me at all. I asked them not to touch me.

"Won't you have a glass of cider?" the man
asked quietly.

I didn't answer, but he disappeared and
came back shortly with a dipperful of the sour
stuff. It was a big, two-quart dipper and it was
full. I grabbed it from his hand and drained it
to the last drop. The dipper fell from my hands
to the floor and I sank down in front of the
fire again.

We had reached that house at eleven o'clock,
after seven hours of torture and cold.

While the girl had frozen the side of her face,
one hand, and the sides of her feet, she recov-
ered. She was covered with black and blue
places where I had beaten her and dragged her
about.

The horse came through all right.

With the exception of a badly cut up pair
of legs I was as well as if nothing had happened
the next morning.

190 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

There in the woods during my two months'
experiment this story came to me vividly,
and I would always say to myself, when things
seemed pretty hard to stand, '^ There is noth-
ing that I am now undergoing that can com-
pare with those seven hours eighteen years
ago/'

My experience that night I got lost in the
swamp during my life alone in the wilderness
was nothing as compared to that winter's
night in the canon.

Speaking of that bog brings to my mind a
question which has been asked me over and
over again since I have come back to civiliza-
tion. Scores of people have wanted to know
how I stood the flies and mosquitoes while I
was up there naked in the woods.

Now as to the flies — there were none. The
last of July sees the end of flies in the woods.
Anyone who knows the forest understands this.

There were a few mosquitoes, but they were
to be found only in the swamp land. Up on
the mountainside there were none at all. What
few might have found their way there would
soon have been blown away by the wind.

Other ^^eople have asked me what I did on
rainy days.

Rainy days were just the same to me as

MORE WILDERNESS ADVENIURES 191

any other days. The rain did not bother me in
the sHghtest. My body got used to it, and there
was no danger of my taking cold.

The hundred and one questions asked me by
women on the train when I was coming down
through Maine to Boston amused me not a little.
After explaining to them that I had entered
the wilderness without a single thing but my
naked self, and emphasizing the fact by nam-
ing one thing after another that I did without,
the following questions would come pouring
in on me:

"How did you keep your matches dry in
wet weather?''

"Weren't you frightened when you hid in
that hole and waited for a bear to come along?"

"You must have been a good shot to kill
that deer!"

"Were the other men who went into the
woods with you good company?"

When I replied that I had no matches, that
I did not stand in a hole and wait for a bear,
that I had no gun, and that other men did
not go into the wilderness with me they could
not seem to understand it.

I quickly saw I had a campaign of woodland
education on my hands, especially for the
ladies.

192 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

But, just the same, experience has taught me
since the experiment that the average man is
a close second in regard to a meager knowledge
of the woods and nature.

To my mind, no matter how finely educated or
well versed a man may be in booklore, he is
not complete unless there is a touch of nature
in his makeup.

CHAPTER XIII

THE WORLD AND THE WILDERNESS

In this particular chapter it is not my in-
tention to state that our present mode of
living is wrong. Rather, I will simply give
my opinion of the subject, formed by constant
comparative thoughts which came to me while
I was living alone in the wilderness.

Every man has a right to his opinion, and
every man's opinion should be respected be-
cause it is his honest point of view.

According to my opinion the way the world
is living at present is entirely wrong. Civili-
zation has carried us along to a point where,
through custom and habit, we are accepting
an artificial life rather than a natural one.
Commercialism and the mad desire to make
money have blotted out everything else, and
as a result we are not living, but merely existing.

The boy in school is being taught that above
all else he must make a success of life, and
that success is reckoned by society on the basis
of what a man is capable of earning.

193

194 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

Human beings are so obsessed with this idea
that they find little time to look at the trees
and the sky. As a result, nature, the one thing
that is more essential than all the rest, is
sadly neglected.

However, I am optimistic. I believe that
our unnatural living has reached a point
where people are beginning to realize that
nature is indeed being neglected. I believe
that civilization will turn back to nature
and enjoy her countless benefits.

Under our present mode of living a parent
has been deserted, for nature is our real mother.

Mothers and fathers should take their chil-
dren back to nature — to the woods. Here
they should allow them to play and live and
learn a great many things which they will
never forget. By doing this the parent will be
inculcating the love of nature in the child,
rather than the fear of it.

Perhaps some parents can't understand this,
but I would advise letting children live as they
want to out-of-doors. By so doing they will
learn to feel things, and feeling things is what
makes character.

Let the children play out in the rain and in
the snow. They will not catch cold. If a
child is cold he will run around and get warm.

THE WORLD AND THE WILDERNESS 195

Presently his flesh will become hard and firm
and he will be the picture of rugged health.
After awhile he will not notice the cold.

Under the present conditions the parent lets
the child play in the snow and rain for a short
time, and then calls him into the house, say-
ing, perhaps, that it is getting too cold for
the child to be out. Children are bundled up,
given hot drinks, and put into comfortable
beds with extra coverings to ward off any
possible cold. If a draft of God's pure air
happens to sweep across the bed, the parent
fearfully closes the window.

That is the worst way in the world to bring
up children. Give them all the comfort pos-
sible in regard to clothing, but do not be
afraid to let them expose themselves to the
weather.

Years ago, when I was a boy, I thought noth-
ing of going down to the spring in winter
in my bare feet. I used to keep moving and
the snow did not harm them. When I got back
to the house my feet would be as warm as
toast and as red as fire.

I remember one" winter when regularly for
six weeks I used to go out in the snow each
morning with nothing on my body and race
through the snow for half a mile or more. It

196 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

might have been zero or below zero — it did n*t
matter. So long as I kept going I was all
right. When I went back into the house
my body would burn all over like fire. The
blood was coursing through my veins and I was
putting myself in fine shape.

Being out in the fresh air part of the time
and locked up in a house full of impure air the
rest of the time constitutes a radical change.
It is these sudden changes that bring on pneu-
monia and other diseases.

Do not pay much attention to your children
for fear they may catch cold out-of-doors.
That fear of yours may result in the dreaded
cold. If they feel cold they will instinctively
move about.

If children are in bed and begin to cry that
they are cold, let them cry. Don't pay any
attention to them. So long as they keep up
screaming they are all right. When they get
up in the morning they may look a little tired,
but you will notice that they will eat an un-
usually good breakfast.

The child who is given all the luxury of a
steam-heated room free from drafts, instead of
sleeping practically dies during the night and
comes to life again in the morning. These
children are like tender young plants. They

•»<

W M

w

><

H

<;

Q

^

k1

<

Pi

O

W

f^

H

CD

S

o

w

O

w

'A

p:;

2;

Q

oi

W

Q

hJ

<

Q

o

<

W

w

r/)

H

M

H

iM

Q

W

hJ

<

05

Q
<

i

o
w

H

«

'>->

<

«

W

w

w

H

H

w
o

Pi
H

V)

C^

Q

-f

O

n

O

^

^

a

<

THE WORLD AND THE WILDERNESS 197

have no appetites. Breakfast means nothing
to them.

Take these same children and send them out-
of-doors to play for hours in the open air, and
when dinner time comes they will eat heartily.
They will have lived for a brief time the way
nature meant them to live. This means liv-
ing out-of-doors all the time and exercising.

I believe because of this great neglect of
nature that the world is growing weaker and
weaker, and that human beings are the
sufferers.

While I do not wish to thrust my ideas upon
people, I am glad to be able to contribute all
that I have learned in my way of living; and
I honestly feel that if they heed some of the
advice and believe in me they will benefit
greatly in health.

I ate in the woods only when I felt like it
and when circumstances brought me in con-
tact with things to eat. When there was
nothing in sight I did not eat. I had no regular
breakfast time. Just because it was the first
thing in the morning I did not eat.

Because civilization has got the idea that
everyone should eat at noon does not prove
that it is the time to eat.

It was the same at night; I had no accepted

198 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

supper time. If I was not hungry I did not
eat. When I was hungry I naturally drifted
to a place where I could relieve my hunger.

People of the civilized life drift into hotels
and restaurants at so-called meal times because
they have been accustomed to enter such places
at those times before. Nine times out of ten
they are not really hungry.

A man sits down to the table, picks up the
menu, and wonders in a worried way what he
will eat. He says it is the same thing over
and over again, and he makes a great fuss in
the ordering. If that person were truly hungry
and normal he would order anything.

Some days in the woods I may have eaten
twenty times a day; on other days I would
not eat a thing. Nothing was regular with
me. I had no regular time to sleep. I simply
drifted along the easiest walks of life in the
wilderness and accepted everything as I found
it; and I always used the easiest methods in
obtaining food, shelter, and comfort.

The finest banquet I could sit down to
means nothing to me. I care nothing for all
the fine wine and so-called good things to eat
in the world. I never give them a thought.

It is the people who are seated around the
table with their interesting faces that absorb

THE WORLD AND THE WILDERNESS 199

my attention. I never know under such con-
ditions what to eat. I never anticipate the
'^ delicious'' crabmeat, or whatever is served,
before I eat it.

There is nothing more pitiful to me than an
epicure.

Our whole system is a waste of good time.
How much time is absolutely necessary to
satisfy our hunger? I claim we are selfish
when we waste two or three hours of our time
at a social meal when we could be accomplish-
ing so much for the surrounding world.

Of course, if a man is not a worker and
has nothing else to do perhaps the best thing
in the world is to let him eat himself to death.

The society drawing room, where women
clad in beautiful gowns mingle with men suffer-
ing in starched linen, all of whom are breath-
ing stale air, is a sad picture as compared with
the great natural rooms of the forest where
man lives with as few clothes as possible.

Surely the reader will acknowledge that the
fresh air of the forest is more invigorating than
the air under the plastered ceilings of drawing
rooms, where the odors of Florida water and
talcum powder and pungent perfumes almost
stifle one.

I realize that past generations have created

200 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

in the minds of some a demand for things arti-
ficial, but I feel that, even before this habit
and taste were formed, way back hundreds of
years ago there existed an instinct for the
natural life which even in the people of to-day
is struggling once again to come into its own.

I believe that the great outdoor movement,
which is gaining strength all over the country
at present, is catering to this instinct and that
as a result much of the artificial life will be
wiped out.

There is no place for style in the woods. There
was not much style about me during my two
months' isolation. There is no place for style
in the natural order of things. I believe that
style retards life more than men or women
dream of.

Modern civilization is a creation of man
not of God. Nature is God's creation. I do
not think, and never will believe, that God in-
tended us to live as we are living in these civi-
lized times. Our civilization has brought us
something worse than the barbaric.

Do not misunderstand me and think I am
criticising the academic side of things. Far
from it. I believe every man and woman
should get every bit of education possible,
but I do not think this education should be

THE WORLD AND THE WILDERNESS 201

obtained at the expense of true living. Better
to me is a normal life and less education than
an abnormal life and too much education.

In a succeeding chapter I will teU you how
going without clothing in all kinds of weather
benefited me in the forest. I am convinced
that the human being needs little or no cloth-
ing. All I had in the woods was my naked
skin. I was perfectly comfortable under those
circumstances.

So-called custom makes it necessary for a
man to wear a sweltering hot coat in the pres-
ence of women even during the hottest days
in summer. Such a thing is ridiculous. The
skin needs air just as much as the lungs.

At the very start of life parents have the
tendency to overclothe their children, with
the result that boys and girls are made tender
in the beginning so that it is necessary to bundle
them up all their lives. A slip-up in their
dress, and they are taken sick.

Had these same children been hardened in
the beginning they would have grown steadily
healthier.

In this civilized life we have altogether too
much. We have vastly more than we need
— more than is good for us.

Recently the great question of the high cost

202 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

of living has arisen. It seems to me it is not
the question of the high cost of Hving, but the
question of the high standard of living.

Years ago families did not have electricity
in their houses, nor telephones, nor steam-heat,
nor tiled bathrooms. Seldom if ever did they
go to the theater.

And nowadays they are wondering why it
is so hard to get along. People do not stop
to think that these luxuries are the cause of
stringency in the family purse.

Years ago the wife went to market with a
market basket on her arm. Society considers
such a thing as common to-day. The grocery
and provisions man delivers things at your
door, and you are the one who pays for that
delivery.

Meat used to come done up in brown wrap-
ping paper. Now the butcher does it up in
waxed paper first, for which also the consumer
has to pay. All these things are luxuries which
we could easily get along without.

We are too dependent upon other people
to do things for ourselves, though we could
do them perfectly well if we chose.

When I was in the woods I could not tele-
phone down to any market and tell the butcher
to bring me up some deer-meat. I had to go

THE WORLD AND THE WILDERNESS 203

and hunt up my deer for myself. And I had
to kill it and cut the meat ofiF, before carrying
it to my fire and cooking it. Some of that
meat looked pretty black after I got through
roasting it, but it contained just as much nutri-
ment, and did me just as much good, as if
it had been served on a white platter, gar-
nished with parsley.

In the mind of the housewife who is about
to entertain, a dainty-looking table is more to
be desired than nutritious food which she
serves to her guests. According to the present
mode of entertaining things must look "nice"
even though all hands who partake of the spread
may die of acute indigestion.

I ask the reader the next time he goes into
an electric car to study the different advertis-
ing signs, which spread from one end of the
car to the other. With the exception of per-
haps a bread sign, every one of the other things
which, according to the advertisements them-
selves, '^you can't get along without," is pure
luxury. You don't actually need any of the
things advertised.

"You're not correct unless you wear
Chokem's Collars," reads one. Who, other
than the Chokem Collar concern, says you
are not correct? No one. Yet the public

204 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

take the bait and Chokem Collars become
the rage.

Women wear the most outlandish rigs because
someone says it is the style. The people of
to-day are style-crazy. They willingly make
themselves appear ridiculous if in their own
minds they know they are wearing something
that everybody else is wearing.

To me it seems as if they miss the point.
I should be tempted to wear what everyone else
wasn't wearing, and not be classed with the
human mimickers.

In the woods, just because a trapper picks up
a feather and sticks it in his hat you don't
wdrry your heart out until you find a feather
just like it to put in your hat.

Close to nature such absurdities do not exist.
A man uses just what he finds, and he generally
finds all he needs.

By this I do not mean that women should n't
have pretty things. I believe they should, and
feel that such a desire has been instinctive
way back through the ages. But there is no
excuse for their going to extremes just because
someone else does.

There is another side to this question of
simple living, and that concerns the regulating
of the housewife's duties. Personally I enjoy

THE WORLD AND THE WILDERNESS 205

the simplest kind of a life. The humble life
is the true life and the healthy life.

I do not believe in having a great mansion
elaborately furnished and decorated, nor in
entertaining lavishly. This entertaining does
no good in the world, and life is too short for
such a waste of time.

I should like to live in a very simple bunga-
low or log cabin, far enough away from the
noise and smell of smoky cities so that I
could think and work along the lines that I
enjoy the best.

If I had a companion I would wish her to
have all the freedom in the world. I woulS
never dictate to a wife of mine, and I should
not want her to dictate to me.

If she was not what I thought her to be before
I married her, and she continued to live with
me, I would make her come up to my ideal.
I should not attempt to do this through nag-
ging, sarcasm, or quarreling, but simply by
minding my own business and setting her an
example. I would not interfere with her in
any way. I believe in absolute freedom of
thought and action.

All that we possess in the world is what God
gave us, and that constitutes our life. Why
should anyone attempt to dictate to us, or

206 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

direct our movements? When a person does
this he is selfish, and is trying to use something
which does not belong to him. Not being
satisfied with the life God gave him, he shows
it by not having respect for the freedom of
others.

All I ask for in this life is my freedom
and my liberty such as I had there in the
wilderness.

Just as I have said that children should live
close to nature, so do I believe the same thing
as applied to women. No man should expect
a woman to slave at housework which would
have the tendency to keep her constantly con-
fined to the house.

A woman needs plenty of fresh, outdoor
air, yet the majority of them are so worn out
by their housework that when it is done they
sit down to read or sew, instead of spending
as much time as possible in the open air. Nine-
tenths of the nervous trouble among women
to-day is caused by a lack of fresh air and
exercise.

We have but to take our lessons in health
from the wild animals. They are always out-
of-doors and they are continually exercising.
They have no luxuries.

During my experiment I lived as the animals

THE WORLD AND THE WILDERNESS 207

lived in the forest. I was a part of the wilder-
ness that surrounded me.

To-day, as a result of that experience, I am
far healthier than I was when I went into the
Maine woods.

I can^t say too much in favor of walking.
Anybody but a cripple can walk, and it is a
good habit to get.

To-day people can't set foot out-of-doors
without riding in a street car or an automobile.
There are many times when they might walk
and enjoy needed exercise which spells health.

For two months I walked continually about
the forest, and all the time I was doing this I
was putting myself in splendid condition. I
had no one to wait on me. I was not a hanger-
on. A hanger-on in the wilderness would
starve to death. When I wanted some berries
I had to go and pick them. I couldn't ask
anyone to pass me the berries. I was abso-
lutely dependent upon myself, and this condi-
tion proved of tremendous benefit to me.

In our civilized life when a man is "down
and out," what does he do? He immediately
hunts up his friends to aid him. He does not
realize what he could do for himself if he
would only try.

The animals of the woods, when they are

208 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

hungry, do not go to other animals to borrow
food. They creep away alone, and by their
own resources locate their food and fight for it.
Civilization needs to learn this lesson of
self-dependence more than anything else. The
people of to-day need to stop leaning on the
other fellow for what they want. Within them-
selves, if they only knew it, is a power they do
not dream of.

CHAPTER XIV

TRAPPING AND WOODCRAFT

When I entered the wilderness on August
fourth, nineteen hundred and thirteen, I placed
entire dependence upon my knowledge of the
woods, which I had gained from practical ex-
perience. In the preliminary catechising of
myself I could think of nothing that would
block me in the undertaking.

I had never read any books on the primitive
man or the primitive life. I simply knew
what I had been forced to do in the past, and
I felt that such knowledge would carry me
through, as proved to be the case.

A knowledge of woodcraft can never be
gained through the reading of books. While
certain methods can be described in this
manner, the reader will never grasp the true
spirit of the subject unless he has the practical
experience to go with it. A little of this prac-
tical experience goes a long way.

If a man is really interested, his year-by-
year contact with the woods will aggregate

209

210 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

a considerable amount of knowledge. While
he is in the forest a man is not making a study
of nature through the medium of type-set
pages, but he is gradually absorbing the real
fundamentals through the great, big, open
book of nature — the one natural textbook,
written on the mountainside, the trees, the
surface of the waters, and in the thicket, by
the greatest author of them all — the Almighty.

In attempting to give you a little insight
into the fascination of woodcraft I will begin
by touching upon the various trails which
are to be found all over the woods.
I There are many kinds of trails: natural
game trails, and those made by man. How-
ever, all trails are very much alike. In every
instance a trail, whether it be made by man
or animal, follows through the wilderness, over
streams, along the line of least resistance.

When a man builds his camp in a virgin
country he makes his trail to the spring along
the easiest way. If an animal had come
there years before, and started from the site
of this same camp, he would have made a
trail to this same spring exactly the same as
the man made it — simply because it was the
easiest way to make it.

The spotted or blazed trail, like the others.

TRAPPING AND WOODCRAFT 211

follows this line of least resistance. The blazed
trail is not a trampled trail. It is a trail made
by spots on the trees with an ax.

Swinging to the right or left as the land may
go, but always keeping one point of the compass
in mind, the man in making a blazed trail
marks a spot or a blaze on a tree with his
ax. From the last blaze he looks ahead,
singles out another tree, and when he reaches
it makes another blaze there. On he goes
through the forest, making a spot here and
there in this manner.

Even the amateur can easily follow a blazed
trail. When he comes to a spotted tree all
he has to do is to look ahead to the right or
left until he sees another blazed tree. Upon
reaching that he goes through the same per-
formance. Thus he goes from tree to tree all
the way along the trail.

To return to the natural game trails: these
trails are worn through the process of one
animal after another drifting along over the
same ground. They use the same route through
the forest because that is the easiest way to go.
The woods are full of these trails.

Marks in snowj tell the trapper that an
animal has passed, but his knowledge, gained
from experience, allows him a more complete

212 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

understanding, and by it he can interpret the
disturbances all along the trail.

By observing the lay of the land the experi-
enced trapper who comes upon undergrowth
and ferns understands why the path is zig-
zagged.

He is able to tell what kind of an animal is
ahead of him by the size of the tracks and by
the distance between the steps.

By studying the shrubbery the trapper can
determine what the animal has eaten, and if
he knows what the various animals feed upon
it will be easy for him to tell just what sort of
creature has preceded him, without seeing it
at all.

There is always some sign along the trail,
and the experienced man can never go wrong.
Marks of antlers on the bark of trees point
out the direction a deer or moose has taken.

The man who knows the woods is always at
home in the forest. He always knows north
from south without the aid of a compass.
He is sure of himself in regard to direction,
knowing that moss always grows on the north
side of trees.

The woodsman also knows what the situation
of the sun means. If he is forced to travel any
distance on rainy days the moss acts as his

TRAPPING AND WOODCRAFT 213

compass. The moss was the only compass
I had during my sixty-mile tramp through the
wilderness to Canada.

If a man is traveling through the forest a
number of miles to a certain point, and he is
acquainted with the woods and wild life,
he does not always travel in a perfectly straight
line. He allows himself to drift along the trails
of least resistance, keeping in his mind all the
while the point of the compass he is headed
for.

For instance, if he strikes a trail that bears
to the northeast, and his destination is directly
north, he can follow this trail to the northeast
for miles, which goes partly in the direction
he is aiming for. Doing this he is always on
the lookout for the next trail along the line of
feast resistance bearing straight north or even
northwest. If it is a northwest trail that turns
up, he knows, by following it along for some
distance, that he has brought himself back to
his course or even crossed it to the westward of
north. Consequently he knows that north is
still to the east of him. Of course, under such
circumstances he watches for trails, as he walks
along, which lead to the east or north of the
trail that he is following.

Thus by zigzagging through the forest on the

214 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

natural trails of the least resistance he finally
reaches the point he started for.

In a country with which a man is fairly well
acquainted there is no difficulty in finding
water at any time.

Even at the time you need water you are
unconsciously walking along a natural game trail
that leads to water. It isn't necessary to go
in a straight course over the tops and under-
brush and through the tangles to find water.

Simply follow the natural game trails in the
forest, from the smaller to the larger ones,
and such a course will always lead you to water
or a camp.

Perhaps the questions may arise: Why do
these big trails lead you to water? And why
do the trails get bigger? Because these trails
always lead to something, and the constant
frequenting of them by animals makes them
bigger. They lead the animals to something,
or there wouldn't be any big trail there.

Anything that is good for the animal is good
for the human being. In a word, all a man
has got to do in the wilderness is to live in
perfect harmony with his surroundings. He
has n't got to resist anything.

It is n't necessary to walk into a stream and
wade up against the current. BuUd a crude

TRAPPING AND WOODCRAFT 215

craft and float downstream with the current;
you will get a whole lot more out of it.

In building a fire always kindle it to the lee
of your lean-to, so that the smoke of the fire
won't pour into your camp and smother you.

I would pick the site of a camp in the open,
under the shelter of spruce or cedar, or some
other black-growth timber. This is perfect
shelter, for all the dew or frost that would fall
during the night would land on the limbs of
trees.

On the spills under the trees it is always
dry, no matter how damp or frosty it may be
outside. This black-growth timber protects
the ground beneath it from frost, fog, and damp-
ness, which come from the atmosphere. The
black timber absorbs all this as nourishment for
kself. This explains why under black-growth
timber there is never any sign of vegetable
life — nothing but dry, dead, decayed vegeta-
tion and spills that have fallen the year before.

There is not a thing in the forest, dead or
alive, but what is of some use. Even the
dead leaves are invaluable. They can be
used to kindle fires, and also to make a fine top
covering for a forest bed.

The trapping season in the woods starts
early in the fall when fur is getting good and

216 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

prime. The trappers have what they call
trapping lines — a territory extending for miles
through the country. This trapping line sec-
tion is '^baited up" — that is to say, food liked
by the animals is scattered about through the
district in order to get the fox, mink, otter, sable,
bear, muskrat, and beaver coming there.

Then the setting of the traps begins. The
trapper does not work according to the eight-
hour-day schedule. Sometimes he is up and
away at four o'clock in the morning and con-
tinues working until after dark at night.

After the catch the skins are fleshed and
stretched and dried in camp. Without tanning
they are sent direct to market.

Anyone who devotes his whole time to
trapping, and understands his business, can
make as much as three thousand dollars a yeaj;.
A five-dollar license at present allows any resi-
dent of the State of Maine to catch all fur-
bearing animals in any place in the state dur-
ing the respective open seasons.

As to the various modes of trapping, I
will start with the bear. The most modern
and up-to-date way to catch a bear is to use a
steel Newhouse trap. The Newhouse trap
weighs about twenty pounds, and has two
heavy steel springs which control two heavy

TRAPPING AND WOODCRAFT ^17

steel-toothed jaws. Attached to this is a chain
about four feet long with a ring on the end.
This ring is to fit over a piece of timber ten
feet long and four inches in diameter, which is
called a clog.

This clog is used so that when the steel jaws
close on the bear 's leg he will drag it along. As
long as he can make headway he will keep
going, but if he finds himself fast he will ''leg
himself, '^ or, in other words, gnaw off his own
foot and make his escape. If a bear starts the
trap and finds that he can make progress, he
will work all kinds of ways to clear himself
from any tangle he gets into. But you will
always find him in a Newhouse trap.

In trapping a bear in this manner bait is
necessary. Anything in the way of fish, or
fresh or stale meat, is good, but best of all
is the carcass of another bear.

Another way to trap a bear is through the
use of a deadfall. The deadfall is built of logs.
First place a bed-log so that it lies about one
and one-half feet above the ground. Next
drive four long, heavy sticks into the ground,
two on each side of the bed-log and about eight
feet apart.

In the slots between these sticks another log,
called the drop-log, is placed upon the bed-log.

218 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

At one end it is raised up and supported by a
prop, which is known as a figure four.

Then this top-log is loaded with four or five
other logs, these logs fitting into the slots made
by the extending sticks. Among trappers these
logs are known as the load.

The bait for this trap is placed on the back
of the deadfall, and is protected by brush and
sticks in such a way that it can only be reached
from the front of the deadfall. The bait is
likewise put at such a distance that the bear
will have to step over the logs before he can
reach it.

When he pulls the bait, the trap is sprung
and the drop-log falls and crushes the animal
between the logs.

An older method, and one used by the
Indian squaws to trap grizzly bears in the
west, is to dig a pit in the ground and build a
deadfall of logs and stones above it. When the
trap is sprung the bear is buried in the pit
under the heavy load.

This kind of a pit and deadfall is similar to
the one I used to trap my bear during my
wilderness experiment. If I had had an ax
I would have built a regular deadfall. As it
was, I was forced to use what loose material
I found about me. With this rough material

TRAPPING AND WOODCRAFT 219

I constructed a combination pit and deadfall
which caught the bear alive.

The only difference between my trap and
the one used by the squaws was that my trap
did not crush the life out of the animal.

In a previous chapter I have explained one
way of catching a partridge. Partridges may
also be trapped in a snare, just as a rabbit
is caught. The snare can be made out of many
different materials that grow in the woods.
Even grass and roots will make strong snares,
and the lining bark of the cedar.

In making a snare make a loop with a slip-
noose in it. Bend a little bush over the trail,
and fasten this bush in a notch made on
another bush. Attach the loop to the bent
bush, and hang it just a little above the
trail.

When a partridge or rabbit touches this
snare, in attempting to pass through, he brings
a strain on the bent bush, which is released
with a swish, catching the quarry by the neck
and dangling him over the trail.

It is a cowardly thing to snare a deer, but it
can easily be done. A man who gets a deer
in this way, or in a bear trap, is called a ^^pot
hunter. "

By making a snare out of rawhide, and using

220 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

a larger tree for a spring, it is just as easy to
hang a deer in the trail as it is a rabbit.

The trapping of mink is a different story.
The trapper goes alongside of a stream and
digs a hole in the bank. Into this hole he
forces some stale fish or other bait. Then he
places his steel trap, which is attached by a
chain to a hitcher, at the mouth of this hole.
The trap and hitcher are well covered up with
dirt and leaves. The mink, in trying to get
at the bait in the hole, steps on the hidden
trap and is caught.

To catch these animals in the lake country,
set your trap in about two feet of water on a
flat rock or a natural stepping place, which the
mink would use in coming from the water.
The placing of the bait close by entices the
animal, who, coming by way of your trap, falls
a victim.

Beaver castor, the essence of the seven
barks which the beaver eats, is very pene-
trating, and a little of this spread in the
vicinity of the traps will attract the animals
very quickly.

Catching the otter is somewhat more difficult.
If he is going upstream he always goes through
the biggest swell of water.

Otters breast themselves against the flow

TRAPPING AND WOODCRAFT 221

of water and push themselves over the falls
with their hind feet until they reach another
flow, and so on.

Their front feet, which they use very little,
are so small that a trap would slip off one in a
second. They must be caught by the powerful
hind legs.

Place a trap below the flow in about eight
inches of water, and attach the chain of the
trap to a hitcher which has been put out in
deep water. For this particular hitcher a limb
is chosen with its branches, which are trimmed
down to about an inch in length, pointing down-
ward. Thus the ring of the hitcher can go down
over these small projections, but it cannot be
pulled up.

When the otter starts to push himself over
the flow he pushes his foot into the trap -and
immediately dives, pulling the ring down the
stick. Then the sunken hitcher holds him
under water where he drowns.

In case the otter is coming downstream the
trap is set just below the flow.

Not being in sympathy with the wholesale
slaughter of animals through our system of
hunting to-day, I will not dwell at length
on that particular side of wood life. However,
I wish to say just a word. Anything that the

222 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

law allows a hunter to do is accepted by every-
body to be fair.

For the mere payment of so much money to
the state authorities hunters are allowed to
go into the forest with rifles and rapid-fire
guns and kill a stipulated number of deer and
moose. But they can't do this unless they pay
so much money.

Such practices are not in accord with nature.
They are not in harmony with the great out-
of-door movement, and are of no benefit to
the people.

The killing of animals for the mere sport of it
should be absolutely stopped. Let woodsmen
and campers kill game only when they are
forced to do so out of necessity.

There should never be a law prohibiting the
killing of animals for use in case of necessity.

The animal has not got a square deal when
he is pitting his craft against that of the hunter
with a gun. The gun should only be used
when meat or skin is necessary. Under such
conditions its use is perfectly fair.

So-called sport as it exists to-day is nothing
more than the instinct in man to kill inferior
animals. What pleasure is there in putting a
bullet through a running deer? Why does a man
kill a deer?

TRAPPING AND WOODCRAFT 223

After all my life in the forest I have not got a
single animal head or anything like that in my
home. I would rather know that the animals
were roaming free in their natural haunts.

Instead, I have some photographs of the in-
habitants of the wilderness which I prize more
highly than any trophy obtained by trap, snare,
or rifle. These photographs were taken down
streams in the darkness of night, under the
jacklight, in the deep snows in winter, where
the animals live in yards, and along the trails
in the open places.

While I have killed much game for various
reasons, I have passed hundreds of wild animals
by when I could easily have slaughtered them.

Friends with me have said, "Why didn't
you take a shot at that fellow?"

I would reply to them by saying, "I would
rather see a wild animal running than falling."

CHAPTER XV

THE VALUE OF THE EXPERIMENT

The tremendous interest manifested by the
people broadcast in this experiment of mine is
most gratifying to me. This interest has as-
sumed larger proportions than I dreamed could
be possible. While I personally realized the
great benefits to be derived from nature, I
thought that in the busy rush of life a majority
of the people would not find time to consider
the subject. However, there seems to be more
interest in the outdoor movement than ever
before, and if my small effort has been of bene-
fit I am satisfied.

I believe this great outdoor movement will
lead to an entirely different line of education. I
believe that it will open a new book, which can be
studied outside of plastered walls and away from
the unnatural light of gas or electricity. It is not
a book of black-typed information, but the great
book of nature with its fundamental teachings.

To me there is not only an education in nature
but a religion as well. My God is in the wilder-

S24

THE VALUE OF THE EXPERIMENT 225

ness. The great open book of nature is my
religion. My church is the church of the forest.
I am convinced that he who lives close to the
teachings of nature lives closer to the God of
creation than those of the civilized life who
wrangle over the different doctrines handed
down from one people to another.

There is little thought attached to these va-
rious doctrines. The child of a Baptist father
is a Baptist simply because his father is a Bap-
tist. That child is a Baptist before he is born.
Our religions are created for us even before we
exist, and when we arrive on earth we follow
the teachings of the particular group of people
who have made up a part of our family tree.
Religion of this kind is nothing more than habit.

The true teachings of God cannot be obtained
by reading in books the thoughts of other men.
They may be understood only by living, feeling,
seeing, and being a part of your surroundings.

Nature is a religion where all people can meet
on common ground. The mere fact that differ-
ences of opinion exist in the various sects and
creeds shows that something is wrong with the
different types of religion accepted by different
types of people. In nature the proximity of the
Almighty is indisputable — His teachings here
are within the understanding of all.

226 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

People of civilization follow many kinds of
religious trails, but the real trail is the one made
by God himself, and that trail is nature. Those
reading this great book and following this trail
will one day come out at the destination they
hope and dream about.

As to an education, there is much in nature
that cannot be obtained through school and
college courses. This part of knowledge is, I
claim, a vital part of man's education. Such a
knowledge puts the man in such a condition of
physical health that he can go back to his other
studies and duties with far greater effect. The
more he studies nature the more he will continue
to study her, because in that studying he will
come to realize that he is truly living — living
as he was meant to live in the beginning.

The man who yearly gets farther and farther
away from nature in his abnormal struggle for
wealth and luxury is well along the road that
leads to the destruction of health. Such men
are tearers down of future generations.

In the beginning it was my ambition and
hope to establish beyond the question of a doubt
that a man could enter the woods and live the
primitive life successfully. I wanted to demon-
strate that a man could live without leaning on
the other fellow, and that within himself there

THE VALUE OF THE EXPERIMENT 227

were ways to get along without the slightest
aid save from nature.

Nature had allowed men to exist before, away
back when the world was young, and I said to
myself that in spite of the handicaps of civiliza-
tion the extra intelligence gained through the
ages would more than make up for the physical
deficiency.

That trip of mine into the wilderness means
that I was literally born again. The day I came
forth from the woods was the beginning of a new
life for me.

During my life in the world of civilization I
had never really given the time to think about
things. I never really stopped to consider all
the great advantages of nature. I never re-
viewed in my mind the various experiences I
had had in previous years in the woods. I
did not stop to consider the many interesting
things that I knew about animals, trapping,
hunting, and woodcraft.

These two months in the forest I sat time and
time again in front of my campfire and really
thought for the first time in my life. It seemed
as if every experience I ever had came back to
me in the most minute detail. This made my
brain worth something to me. In a word, my
two months in the woods have been a wonderful

228 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

education. The experiment made me find my-
self. It gave me perfect health. It demon-
strated to me that there were thousands of things
in our present so-called civilized life that are
unnecessary; in fact foolish, ridiculous, waste-
ful practices that stand in reality for nothing.

It established for me the realization that peo-
ple are slaves to luxury, and that luxury is
making great inroads on the mind and health.

My friends know that the notoriety, which
perhaps has come as a result of this experiment,
means nothing to me. I have always aspired
to do my part in the world, if I could but make
a start. For every man it is a hard thing to
start. I made up my mind one day that I
would get such a start. Then the idea of this
trip came to me just as I have previously de-
scribed it.

I am glad that the idea stuck with me, and
I am glad that I gave the time to think it out.
The thought that perhaps I was doing some-
thing was an incentive, although many times
in the forest I wondered just what the people
on the outside were saying about the experiment.

Perhaps the experiment will demonstrate to
the man who is lost in the woods that all is not
lost. Perhaps the thought that I existed for
two months without the slightest aid may help

THE VALUE OF THE EXPERIMENT 229

a man under such circumstances. I sincerely
hope so.

The one thing that stands out more strongly
than the rest, perhaps, is the health side of the
question. I mention this about myself just as
I would tell the story about any man because
I believe the comparative values to be of vital
interest.

On July thirtieth, just before I left for the
Northern Maine country, I was examined by
Dr. Dudley Allen Sargent, physical director of
Harvard University.

At that time Doctor Sargent made the
following statement:

"I have made a thorough physical examina-
tion of Joseph Knowles of Boston, and from
the results I am certain that if it is possible
for any human being to accomplish the experi-
ment, Knowles can do it.

"His attempt to live like a primeval man will
have a scientific value. It will also have a prac-
tical value, depending in extent on what he
actually accomplishes in the woods.

"I believe it is possible for man to revive
many things which he has lost during the prog-
ress of civilization. There is no question that
in our advancement from primeval life we have
dropped through disuse a great deal of natural

230 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

knowledge; our artificial life has robbed us of
some of our greatest powers and has stunted
others.

"The ^ getting-back-to-nature movement/
which I have consistently indorsed, and which
is now gaining ground everywhere, is turning
the tide backward. Out-of-door life is to-day
being demonstrated as the ideal and natural life
for human beings.

"The attempt of Knowles to live entirely
cut off from civilization is a further move in the
right direction, and it reaches the fundamentals.
Few men dare attempt such a sweeping change
of living, and few men are equipped physically
to accomplish the result. Still fewer men have
the previous knowledge of the woods which is
necessary.

"However, the object lesson of any man's
success in living independently in the woods for
months would be of great value to people who
enter forests. A lost man should be self-sus-
taining. He should know how. To know that
it had been done would give him assurance,
and any actual experience under these circum-
stances should furnish him with methods.

"We will be interested to know how the lack
of salt will affect Knowles and to find the effect
of a sudden change of diet from city fare to wild

THE VALUE OF THE EXPERIMENT 231

things. We want to know how his wild life will
affect his physical condition, his weight, and his
measurements. How greatly the cold will affect
his comfort after he becomes inured is also in-
teresting to science.

"When Knowles returns to Boston after his
two months in the woods I will again make a
complete examination, and by comparison with
his condition when he entered, will be able, I
think, to say what effect his experiment has had.

'^When I examined him he showed consider-
able fat, which will aid him in resisting the cold.
He had a remarkable vitality and much reserve
energy, and was altogether fit for the experiment.

"I fully believe that, with his previous expe-
rience to aid him, he should be able to accom-
plish his experiment."

On October ninth, the day I arrived in Bos-
ton, I was again examined by Doctor Sargent;
and the comparison between the two examina-
tions was most interesting.

In commenting on my examination after com-
ing from the woods Doctor Sargent said:

"Knowles is in the pink of condition, if ever
a man was.

"According to the system employed at Har-
vard he tested 876 points before going into the
woods and 954 on coming out.

232 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

"His test was 150 points better than the
hardest test taken by the football men.

"He surpassed every test he took before
starting on the trip.

"His total strength test was 974 points. A
university crew test is 700.

"With his legs alone he lifted more than a
thousand pounds.

"The strength of his lungs increased five
points on the manometer, while the capacity of
his lungs increased 45 cubic inches — a remark-
able increase.

"Subjected to the action and the stimulus of
the elements, Mr. Knowles' skin has become
a perfect skin. It serves him as an overcoat,
because it is so healthful that its pores close and
shield him from drafts and sudden chills.

"His scientific experiment shows what a man
can do when he is deprived of the luxuries, which
many people have come to regard as necessities.

"No deterioration, only splendid increase of
vigor and vitality, came to him as a result of
this experiment. Forced to eat roots and bark
at times, and to get whatever he could eat at
irregular hours, his digestion is perfect, his health
superb.

"Mr. Knowles has lost eleven pounds in
weight; his height has increased one- tenth of an

THE VALUE OF THE EXPERIMENT 233

inch; his chest has gained nearly one-half inch;
his waist-line has decreased two inches. Some
little weight has left his hips and thighs. His
calves have enlarged, due of course to his long
tramps in the woods.

"As to the lack of salt, it didn't seem to
affect him in the slightest.

"Sandow was perfect in strength and devel-
opment; Knowles is perfect in strength and de-
velopment, but has probably the staying powers
of three Sandows.'^

The following comparative table, compiled by
Doctor Sargent, when compared with the meas-
urements of Sandow, furnishes interesting data:

Knowles Knowles

July 30 Oct. 9

Sandow

Weight 191 lbs. 180 lbs. 180 lbs.

Height (standing) 69.2 in. 69.3 in. 67.7 in.

Girth Head 23.6 in. 23.6 in. 22.8 in.

Neck 16.1 in. 15.9 in. 16.5 in.

Chest (normal) 41. i in. 42.5 in. 44.1 in.

Chest (full) 44.9 in. 44.9 in. 46.9 in.

Ninth rib (normal) 39.4 in. 38.6 in.

Ninth rib (full) 42.1 in. 41.7 in.

Waist 37 in. 35 in.

Hips 40.2 in. 39.8 in.

Right thigh 23.2 in. 22 in.

Left thigh 22.4 in. 22.2 in.

Right calf 15.9 in. 16.1 in.

Left calf 15.6 in. 15.9 in.

Upper right arm 14.4 in. 14 in.

Upper left arm 13.8 in. 13.4 in.

Right forearm 11.8 in. 11.8 in.

Left forearm 11. 8 in. 11.8 in.

Strength chest (points) .70 75

Capacity lung? (points) 245 cu. in. 290 cu. in. 275 cu. in.

32.7

in.

38

m.

23.2

m.

22.8

m.

154

m.

15.6

m.

i6.q

m.

16.1

m.

13.4

m.

13

m.

234 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

As to further thoughts regarding the value of
the experiment, I think perhaps the opinions of
other eminent men on the subject would be of
value. It is better that words of appreciation
should come from them rather than subject
myself to telling the kind things they have to
say about me.

Among others, Salem D. Charles, President
of the Protective Fish and Game Association
of Massachusetts, has said in public:

"Men have praised the performance of Mr.
Knowles too much. There is nothing wonder-
ful about it. Many of us have been there. I
have, but I confess I never undertook it in a
state of nudity. As a representative of the
woodsmen of the state I say again that there
was nothing wonderful about Knowles' per-
formance, and that he was the man of men to
do it. There is no doubt about the battle of
the deer in the minds of men who know. Deer
can be killed just as he says.

"Knowles' work was well done, and he is
entitled to the praise that he is receiving from
thousands.

"There is something in the woods which in-
stills strength in the chest, in the arm, in the
intellect. Our boasted parks of civilization
give no comparison. The parks afford sunshine

THE VALUE OF THE EXPERIMENT 235

and air, but where is the breath and the aroma
of the forest? Where is the pine?

"His story bears the stamp of truth. I have
heard doubts expressed, but I know it is all as
simple as can be. Knowles is to be thanked for
bringing the attention of the people back to the
woods.''

Dr. Samuel W. McComb, the psychologist,
was very kind in his expression of appreciation.
He said:

"In making a study of Knowles I find him to
be a simple, honest-minded man. I do not be-
lieve he has said anything that will not bear the
closest investigation.

"He has shown us, among other things, that
there are many things in life which are not es-
sential.

"He has shown us what a strong personality
can do under extreme pressure. That is a great
lesson in itself. If he never does another thing
in life, this one thing will lift him up a notch
higher than he has been before.

"It is a most romantic experience, and I am
delighted with it all.

"I have just been reading the life of Colum-
bus, and have found that after he had discovered
this great land of ours there were many people
across the sea who did not believe he had dis-

^36 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

covered it. The world is full of skeptics. How-
ever, I think we may disregard them all. The
statements of Mr. Knowles are so simple and
straightforward that they would convince any-
one who thinks.

"The man is an incentive to the growing
youth.''

William C. Adams, of the Protective Fish
and Game Association of Massachusetts, said:

"Knowles' experiences have made a wonder-
ful impression on me. His mental attitude es-
pecially impressed me. A man can go into the
forest on the darkest nights and smile at the
stars, and rest, and nothing shall hurt him.
The friendly attitude of the woods is what
Knowles knew."

James B. Connolly, the author, pointed out
another interesting thought when he said:

"The great lesson this experiment teaches
concerns the physical welfare of the race. There
is too much striving for refinement. It leads to
degeneration. Mr. Knowles has taught us how
to live on nothing. It is better than living on
too much."

From the standpoint of a clergyman who loves
the outdoors, the Rev. Herbert S. Johnson,
pastor of the Warren Avenue Church, Boston,
gave his impression as follows:

THE VALUE OF THE EXPERIMENT 237

"Mr. Knowles has lived a wonderful sermon.
In secular life and in churches, all matters must
be presented interestingly. Old fogy ways will
not do in the woods or in the church, and Mr.
Knowles has given a sermon so pointed that the
whole country will apply the lesson. The Al-
mighty has raised up such men as he to go forth
into the wilderness. And behold a sermon two
months long for the people of the United States!

"Hundreds of thousands of young people,
who have read his story and wondered, will
find nature's blessings of health and pure air
and strong limbs. They have been delighted
with his stories of bears and blueberries and
deer and moccasins, and it has set them think-
ing.

"I wish those who worship gold as their God
could understand the underlying spirit of the
wilderness and its treasures of health, combined
with economic living.

"I want all to have good homes and enough
to live on, but here is a man who has lived alone,
unassisted in the woods for two months, which
is more important than gold. Here is a prophet
of the simple life.

"Knowles has also appealed to men and
women. They will go into the woods. It will
give them time to stop and think, and the more

238 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

they think the longer the flag will wave. Unless
they do stop and think I fear that some time
there will be no flag.

'^Men and women in the wilderness get the
great sermon that God always teaches of the
running brooks and the birds that sing."

I have simply mentioned these few ideas
about the possible value of the experiment, not
to emphasize an indorsement of my test, but
to show how students of such things figure out
possible benefits from my humble effort.

I hope that the various stories which are
interwoven into the fabric of my narrative may
help, even in a little way, to stimulate the
minds of men and women in the direction of
nature. I hope my experiment will yield things
true and big and broad in the minds of the peo-
ple, so that they may catch a glimpse of the
comparison between the natural life and the
artificial life.

CHAPTER XVI

CONCERNING THE BOY SCOUTS

When I speak of the Boy Scout movement I
do so with enthusiasm. This movement, more
than anything else to-day, is leading the people
back to nature.

Of all human beings the boy is the one who
should take the burden of this needed education
upon his shoulders, because the boy of to-day
will be the man of to-morrow.

First of all, boys are naturally closer to nature
than grown-ups. Then they have that unquench-
able enthusiasm, which, after all, is the biggest
factor in accomplishing big things.

There is more or less tendency to-day on the
part of parents to take responsibility away from
the boy. They are catering to his every wish,
and, as a result, are weakening character rather
than benefiting the child, as they feel they are
doing. There is an abundance of the so-called
scientific training', and too little of the practical.

.Years ago, in the days of our grandfathers,
the boy was very close to nature. He had more

239

240 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

responsibilities. He had his chores to do, and
he had to act more for himself than he does to-
day. To-day all kinds of luxury surround the
average boy. Even the sons and daughters of
the very poor have their clubs, and, having
them, enjoy more privileges than the boy of
means of years ago. The boy to-day plays me-
chanically and does not depend upon his own
resourcefulness as he used to. He does not have
to make his own toys. They are bought for
him instead.

I never had a toy bought for me in my life.
Everything I had of this kind in my boyhood
I had to make myself from materials that cost
nothing.

I remember once the delight I took in a bow
and arrow I made. It would have been impos-
sible for me to have gone into a shop and with
money given me by my father to purchase such
a weapon. My father had to use his money in
other ways. However, best of all the bow and
arrow that I made myself was far stronger and
more practical than any I could have bought.
And I had the satisfaction of knowing that I
made it myself.

There were times when I envied the boys who
had fine toys and good clothes. I often won-
dered if they had them why I could not have

CONCERNING THE BOY SCOUTS 241

them too. I always had the ambition to catch
up with those boys, and to have the same things
that they did.

I said to myself, "Some day I will have good
clothes, and then I will be on an equal footing
with those boys."

From that day to this it has been one con-
tinual fight, and I want to tell the boys right
here that I believe that I am a bigger man be-
cause of this constant struggle.

I did not try to catch up with these other boys
for the sake of just mixing with them. My am-
bition was to show them that I was as good as
they were.

In my position of poverty the only way to
show them at that time was to fight them, and I
used to do this. I was a fighter with my hands.
I could hold my own with any boy in this way.

My idea was all wrong. I believed that a
man was not a man unless he could fight with
his hands. If I fought with a boy and he con-
quered me, I would meet him again. All this
was before I used my brains.

Then I met men who fought with their brains.
Boys, you all have brains. There is no need of
fighting with your hands. It is a silly thing to
fight with fists when a matter can be settled
with your mental equipment.

242 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

I listened with great interest to these men
who settled differences with cool words. They
appealed to me. I believed in them.

I said to myself, "This is another kind of
fight, and it is bigger and broader.

These men seemed to like me, and we drifted
along together. I watched them and saw how
they lived and how they looked. Then I would
notice that people admired them.

I would say again to myself, "What can I do
to become a man like these men?"

I knew these men had been educated in the
schools. I hadn't. They were refined, and
could speak different languages, and I looked
up to them. Boys, such a thing is one of the
best things I know of. If there is some particu-
lar big man, who is loved by the people, and
who appeals to you as being a big, worth-while
kind of man, make him your ideal and work
and fight to become a man like him.

Don't for a moment think that you cannot do
this. Your success depends on your grit and
determination. When you are discouraged,
fight the harder. A man who always keeps at
a thing is bound to win out. None of us realize
what we really can do until we are called upon
by necessity.

These men meant more to me than money

CONCERNING THE BOY SCOUTS 243

ever could. They possessed something that
money can never buy — big qualities.

I have seen much of life in the forest and on
the sea. I know one thing above all else, and
that is that a man must be fair to get any-
where. He must be true to his friends and true
to himself.

The golden rule, '^Do unto others as you
would have them do unto you," is the best
thing in the world to follow. It can't be beat.
If every one lived up to it we would have a
perfect world, such as the Almighty wants us
to have.

The Boy Scout oath is the embodiment
of the Golden Rule.

Its laws are perfect. "A scout is trust-
worthy,'' reads the first law. A man, in order
to succeed, must above all else be trustworthy.

Law No. 2 says, ^^A scout is loyal." Loy-
alty is one of the greatest words in the Eng-
lish language, because it goes with friendship.
A true friend is one of man's greatest posses-
sions.

Regarding the third law of the Boy Scouts,
"A scout is helpful," I want to say that I be-
lieve this to be a most important law. Help-
ing another is the truest sign of friendship.

However, I believe this doing things for

244 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

others may be overdone. Perhaps I am tread-
ing on dangerous ground, but I do it honestly.
I believe in aiding others only when they ac-
tually need help. If a person is ill he needs
assistance. If a man or woman is infirm, of-
fering to assist them in crossing a street, or
in other ways, is the right thing to do.

If a boy can relieve his parents of respon-
sibility it is again a noble thing to do. But
the world is full of what I call "hangers-on."
They live like the bank beaver in the woods on
what others do for them. They have so much
done for them that they do not know how to
do things for themselves, and they become
valueless. I believe every boy and girl should
want to do everything that they can for them-
selves. By not leaning on the other fellow they
become masters of themselves. Depending
upon their own resources they can accomplish
wonderful things.

I do not want the reader to misunderstand
me. I believe in helping others, but only where
it is absolutely necessary.

Perhaps I can well illustrate this point by
relating a story, which is told by one of the big-
gest Salvation Army workers in New England.
One of the biggest and kindest men of the city
met him on the street one day and said:

CONCERNING THE BOY SCOUTS U5

" Captain, every day I am approached on the
street by unfortunate men who ask me to
help them. Sometimes I wonder when I give
them something if they are deserving. I am
blessed with money and I want to help these
men, if they deserve to be helped, but I am
constantly wondering if, at times, I am not en-
couraging begging and indolence."

"Well, I'll tell you," answered the Captain.
"If I were you I would change my method.
When a man approaches you on the street and
asks for something to eat and a night's lodging,
give him one of your cards with the address of
the Salvation Army People's Palace written
on the back. Tell him it is good for food and a
bed at our home. If that man comes to us
I will charge his expenses for the night up to
you."

The wealthy man thought this was a fine idea,
and during the next two months gave away
twenty-five of his cards to men who approached
him for aid on the street.

In all this time he did not receive the slightest
word from the Salvation Army authorities.

One day he called up the Captain on the
telephone.

"I must owe you quite a bill," he said.

"Why, no," answered the Captain. "You

^46 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

owe us just twenty-five cents. One man with
your card has come to us since I met you."

The rich man was amazed. It showed him
that out of the twenty-five cards he had given
away only one had been a truly worthy case.
All the others had wanted money instead of
food and a bed.

However, a boy instinctively knows when he
should help another, and when his instinct tells
him to, he should never fail in his duty. The
boy also knows that courtesy is a great factor
in the world, and that he should be polite and
always considerate of others.

When I was alone in the wilderness I had no
one to aid me. I did not even have anyone to
talk to. If I wanted anything I had to go and
get it for myself. I had to use my own re-
sources, and, as a result, I am better for it.

Boys in our modern life, especially in big
cities, do not have the opportunities of getting
back to nature as boys did years ago.

However, through this great movement of
theirs they come together and talk of out-
door life, and at every opportunity they go
into the woods and learn the great lesson of
nature. Big men, who know, have written
books on the woods and the animals that live
within these woods. The Boy Scout is obHged

CONCERNING THE BOY SCOUTS 247

to learn these various animals and things
about nature in order to qualify as a first-class
scout.

I am particularly interested in the different
stages in the movement. There are three
degrees which the boy must take before he
becomes a first-class scout. This part of it
is a splendid feature, inasmuch as the boy just
starting in to be a scout constantly has the in-
centive of becoming a bigger and better one.
I even advocate more degrees, so that a scout
can always look forward to something bigger.

The Boy Scouts of America first become
what they call tenderfoots. Here they make
a start, and a start is a big thing.

A boy must serve at least a month to be eli-
gible to enter the ranks of the second-class
scouts, and all the while he must learn necessary,
practical things of life in order to qualify.
He must know how to aid those who are in-
jured, how to cook, how to build fires in the
open, how to use a knife and a hatchet, and
other practical things that thousands of boys
do not know to-day.

Such knowledge makes the boy indepen-
dent. It gives him an education that will stand
back of him in after life — it brings him closer
to mother nature, whom, in the onward march

248 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

along the roads of civilization, he has run
away from. It gives him health, and health
means stronger generations to come.

In order to become a first-class scout the boy
must know how to swim; to earn a certain sum
of money and deposit it in a bank; to make
maps; to understand the growing things in the
woods, and how to live in the open.

What movement can be greater along educa-
tional lines? Where does book-learning compare
with this practical experience in the great out-
doors?

Of course, have the book-learning too, but
divide this learning with the learning from the
open book of nature.

I understand that there are over two million
Boy Scouts in the world to-day.

I believe it to be the duty of every parent
to encourage his boys in this work, and I cer-
tainly approve of any such movement for the
girls along this line.

I realize only too well that the average Boy
Scout will not go into the depths of the woods
as I did. However, I feel that the average
American boy of reasonably good health, and
with a reasonable amount of resourcefulness,
could accomplish things in the forest that
he and his parents would never dream of.

CONCERNING THE BOY SCOUTS 249

The Boy Scout will go into the forest where
man has been, and where there is ample op-
portunity to get close to nature. He will
learn the different growing things, and the habits
of the animals that frequent his domain. He
will learn how to utilize the different materials
all about him.

He will come to love the woods, and all fear
will leave him. He will get to feel as safe and
comfortable in the forest at night as in his own
home.

In the summertime the boy in the woods
knows he cannot freeze. If he is lost, all he
has to do is to keep his head. The best place
to choose a camp if night overtakes him is in
a thicket. If he feels cold, he knows enough
to get up and run around.

The boy in going into the woods should
know in what direction he is going. With this
constantly in his mind, he can get his bearings
by the moss on the north side of the trees.

It is useless for me to tell the Boy .Scouts how
to build a fire, without any matches. They
know already. To the boy just beginning, the
chapter on woodcraft, by Ernest Thompson
Seton in the Boy Scouts' Handbook, will explain
all that very quickly.

In the winter when the snows are deep, and

250 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

he is walking on snowshoes and night over-
takes him, it is a simple thing for him to con-
struct a cosey camp for the night. I have done
it hundreds of times and have been perfectly
comfortable.

He takes off his snowshoes, shovels a hole
in the snow with them, and fills this hole with
boughs. He sticks up a couple of sticks in
front, places a cross-stick across those, and slants
boughs covered with bark from the cross-stick
to the snow in the rear.

After gathering wood enough to last all
night, he starts his fire in front of the lean-to,
to the lee side. He can regulate his comfort
to suit himself, under these conditions, no
matter if the temperature is below zero.

There are no animals in the woods in winter
that will molest him in any way. The bear is in
his den. The moose are in their yards on the
tops of the mountains, and they never leave these
yards until the snow is gone. The deer are also
in yards on the mountains and in the swamps.

The only animals that travel on the light
snow are the rabbit, fox, wild-cat, mink, fisher,
and the soft-footed animals.

Even if there were vicious animals in the
woods, none would approach close to a camp so
long as a fire was burning.

CONCERNING THE BOY SCOUTS 251

If a boy has n't any food he knows he won't
starve overnight. In the preceding chapters
he can find much material on foods and how
to get them.

The more experience a boy has in the woods
the more his instinct will be developed.

No guide can describe to you how he finds
water. He simply goes and finds it, that is all.
He knows instinctively where to go by the
trails and the lay of the land.

A boy who lives a great deal in the open will
see the folly of smoking. I am not a prude
about such things, but I do want to say that
nine out of every ten who smoke acquired the
habit because, when they were young, they
thought smoking looked well and made them
men. Smoking does not make a man. Rather
it shows a weakness for luxury. There is
nothing in smoking, and in many cases it is
harmful. A man does not need tobacco, and
he can be just as contented, and even more so,
without it than he can with it.

There is n't a man I know who smokes who,
way down in his heart, does not wish that he
had never started the habit.

I don't even have to mention liquor to a Boy
Scout, for he well knows its evils. God 's fresh
air is the greatest stimulant in the world, and

252 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

the use of artificial stimulants is an abuse of the
body.

While I am writing to boys I want to pay a
tribute to the newsboys of the country. Those
little men are an inspiration to me. At their
very young age they are laboring upon their
own resources, and in the future we are to see
some great men come from among their ranks.
These boys, with the responsibilities of life
upon their shoulders, learn to grasp every op-
portunity; and the fraternity among them is
a wonderful thing to see. Some of them aid
materially in the support of the family. They
work long and late. With all this work they
are always on the alert to improve themselves.

The various newsboy clubs throughout the
country have accomplished remarkable things,
and valuable men are being made from their
memberships.

Boys, there is one question you should always
ask yourself: "Am I making the most of what
I have?"

It is impossible to describe the feeling of
satisfaction that takes possession of one when
he knows that he has done his very best. The
boy who tries to do as little in life as he can
believes he is doing a smart thing, and is having
an easy time. He is having a hard time instead.

CONCERNING THE BOY SCOUTS 253

He does not know the exhilaration of true hap-
piness — the feeling that makes* one glad to be
alive.

If every boy and girl could but understand
this, how much more they would get out of life.

A boy should never try to reason with his
conscience, because his conscience in the long
run is right. Instinctively he knows what his
duty is, and every time he meets that duty
he is making himself a bigger man — a man
whom the world will look up to and respect.

Boys and girls, the responsibility of the future
lies upon your shoulders. Study nature at
every opportunity, for the more you know of
nature the more you will know of true living.

The very boys and girls who live to-day can
make history — they can be the ones who,
when artificial things have taken possession of
the world, can turn civilization back to the
true life. This means a future life of health
and happiness — a glorious heritage, which will
be handed down from them.

CHAPTER XVII

NATURE AND ART

When the realization first came upon me
in the forest that my battle was not to be
physical but one with my mind I began to
try to create something to combat it. I knew
that in order to win this battle I must constantly
apply my mind to labor, and that in steady
labo^ I would not have time to dwell mentally
on my loneliness.

Having been an artist in the civilized life
it was most natural that my mind should turn
in that direction. I wished that I might have
had my tubes, brushes, and canvas, for in
that way I could have occupied my mind for
hours. But I said to myself, ^^What is the use
of wishing for these things when I have not
got them?''

Suddenly it occurred to me that color came
from nature, and the brushes and canvas
came from the same source. Then the thought
came to my mind, "Why not try to get my
artist materials, in the forest? Why was it not

254

NATURE AND ART ^5

possible for art to be foraged just the same as
existence?''

'To begin with, I had everything necessary
right there in the woods. I knew that paper
was made of wood pulp. I also knew that
brushes were made of animal fur. Then again
there was a chance for color everywhere.

I grew enthusiastic over this idea and began
making preparations to make a picture in
color, using the crude materials there at hand
in the wilderness. I set to work testing the
stains and colors of roots, bark, and berries,
and proved conclusively that I should not lack
for varied color. ^

Then I started experimenting with paper-
making. By grinding pieces of soft wood against
a stone under water in a birch-bark dish a
pulp was produced, of which I made small
sheets. Draining the water from the pulp I
spread it evenly on a piece of smooth birch-
bark and rolled all the water out of it with a
round stick. I then placed it in the sun to
dry and, as the moisture was absorbed, the
crude sheet of paper released itself from the
bark.

While I lacked the pressure of heavy rolls
to harden this paper, I was able to make tests
on its surface with colors. The pure jmce of

^56 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

berries is deep and sticky. By filling this with
water it becomes transparent and pleasing
in color, blending perfectly with the more sub-
dued tones of the bark and roots.

Next I made some good brushes out of the
short, stiff hair that grows around the nose of
the bear. After selecting the best hair I could
find I tied it together with longer hair, and
pulled it through the quill of a blue heron
feather. To secure the hair I plugged the
quill with hot spruce gum and attached a
small stick for a handle. I felt confident that
these brushes would do the trick.

So thoroughly carried away was I with the
experiment I was making in art that I neg-
lected everything else. I even forgot to eat.
Eventually I was forced through necessity to
fight for mere existence, and the project had
to be abandoned. However, I know that I
could have painted a fair picture in color under
those circumstances.

Even after that the longing came to me to
paint something. The natural colorings that
surrounded me were mighty tempting. As the
golden sunset softly blended with the twi-
light there was always an inspiration and
tranquillity.

With all those things around him in the

NATURE AND ART 257

forest all a man actually needed was the instinct
of an artist.

In many instances to-day art, as it is accepted,
is the merest veneer of the true thing. Art
begins with nature, because it is with the
products of nature that art production is
made possible. There are some artists who can
paint pictures of passing interest who do not
even know of what their canvas is made.
With perhaps the slight exception of what
they have read in books, they have little idea
of the history and process of color-making.
These artists never made their own colors, or
canvas, or brushes. All these have had to
be made for them by somebody else. They ac-
cept what color is offered them in stores, where
they also buy their brushes. They go to
teachers of art, who have learned what they
know through other teachers of art. In a word,
they paint by rule — they paint the way they
were taught to paint.

The artist goes back to nature and sees
a moose running in the woods. He knows it is
a moose because the guide tells him it is. He
knows the difference between animals also
because the guide tells him. Perhaps he shoots
one with a modern high-power rifle. He
doesn't skin the animal because he doesn't

258 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

know how, so he stands back and watches
the guide remove the skin from the carcass.
He tastes some of the meat. He watches the
guide flesh and tan the hide. Then he pro-
ceeds to paint a picture of the scene. The
guide carries his pack for him and makes up
his bed in a comfortable camp, as well as cook-
ing all his meals.

Perhaps he stays in the woods for a month
or more, living under the most comfortable
circumstances. He has observed many things
with his eyes, but in all that time he has not
felt the things that the guide has felt, nor does
the guide tell the artist his feelings, not being
in the habit of talking much.

Then the artist goes back to the city to his
luxurious studio and starts to work putting a
picture of outdoor work on canvas. He pleases
people who do not know much about outdoor
life much the same as a gay-colored chromo
attracts the eye of a child. And he paints all
these pictures under the most comfortable
circumstances.

Along comes a wealthy man who says, "You
are a great painter of wild life. Paint me a
picture of a moose in summertime. *' The artist
has already painted a picture of a moose
in the fall and winter in the snow. The color

NATURE AND ART 259

of a winter moose is decidedly difierent from
that of the summer moose. The antlers the
artist has seen are hard and perfect, but the
antlers of the summer moose are soft and vel-
vety, because the blood is circulating from the
body of the animal up through every part of
his horns. Summer moose look no more like
winter moose than a caribou looks like a deer.

What is the artist going to do? He does n't
even know what kind of a country the summer
moose inhabits, or where he is found. The
summer moose does not live in the same kind
of a place as the winter moose. He does not
eat the same food, nor eat in the same way.
He is of different color, different shape, and
he acts differently. So the reader will see how
easy it is for the painter of outdoor life to slip
up on this sort of thing.

The true portrayal can never come from the
brush of an artist who has not lived close to
nature, and who has not felt what he paints.
To my mind, this fundamental training is a
big factor in art. It is something big — some-
thing apart from the constant swapping of ideas
from one teacher to another.

While such an artist may not have the tech-
nical training of the schooled artist, he has
the truth of his work; and no painting is ever

260 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

great if it lacks truth. Being a part of nature
will fit a man to portray nature truthfully when
he comes to paint it.

It does n't matter what the picture is on the
surface, nor does it make any difference what
you paint it on, or what you use for a brush,
or color. It is the touch. A man who views
a picture rightly looks below the surface of it.
He goes down deep into it.

The painter of truth-pictures is unconscious
of what brush he uses or what color he employs.
The only thing in his mind is the touch of life
that he has seen on the head of some wood
creature or the reflection of a sunset. They
are the things that appeal to him as striking,
and he works on and on until he has obtained
the effect that is in his mind. He knows
instinctively when he has found it, and he
knows that he is right. He has given a soul
to the painting. It takes a man who knows
life from practical experience to read the soul
in another man's picture. A picture without
a soul means nothing.

This was one of the reasons why I went into
the woods in the first place — I hoped in
a small way to get the people to recognize
nature in art.

I began my art in the woods of northern

THE AUTHOR GREETING HIS MOTHER AT WILTON, MAINE, AFTER HE
HAD COMPLETED HIS EXPERIMENT

NATURE AND ART 261

Maine. At various times, while I was guiding
men from the city through the woods, I would
draw sketches for them on pieces of fungus.
They kept telling me I should develop such a
talent, and this pleased me.

I drew considerably after that, but always
hid my stuff. Sometimes people would find
it and say it was good, and that with a little
training I would one day be an artist. I knew
that I lacked technical training, so I thrust my-
self upon every artist I came in contact with.
I observed them closely, and nothing escaped
me. I wondered then if I would ever be able
to do anything like the work they were doing.

However, the repeated suggestions of people
about my developing my talent encouraged
me some and I stuck to it. One day a maga-
zine wanted to buy a cover design I had drawn.
That was the biggest thing I had reached.
I said to myself, "Here is a chance for me to
draw a picture for the public, with my name
signed to it!'' It meant a great deal to me.

But inside I felt that I was not on equal
footing with other artists because I had n 't
had the training of the schools. I did n't
dream at that time that a man could start out
with what talent he had and make a success
on his own resources. I didn't have the

262 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

money to study, so the only thing for me to
do was to keep on painting and observing other
men 's work until I might one day be recognized
as a painter of outdoor life.

After I received this recognition I immediately
jumped back to nature in order to convince
that class of doubters, who are forever tearing
down when they might be building up, about the
truth of outdoor painting. I went back to
nature again and lived. When I came out I
felt that I knew nature.

How many times have you heard the criti-
cism, ^'That painting is overcolored " ? It is
impossible to use colors too bright to portray
the truth of nature. The colors are a part of
nature itself and belong there. They can be
toned down with gray, just the same as a
bright day can be toned down with clouds.

At certain times of the year the reflections
of the forest and the sunset on the lakes are
brighter and cleaner in color than any I have
ever seen on canvas. The peace and tranquil-
lity of some of the twilights and afterglows I
have never seen perfectly reproduced in oil
or water color.

Art critics have a tendency to judge pictures
from their own personal experience of other
pictures. I believe they think too much of

NATURE AND ART 263

the technical and artificial, and ofttimes in
their desire to criticize they overlook the hidden
soul of the picture, which by a man who
knows will be noticed first of all.

The drawing of the subject is a strong point
and requires great skill and natural ability.
The color is a great addition. But the greatest
thing of all is the soul — the touch of the man
who paints it.

The use of the camera in the woods is one
interesting phase of art. I have used the camera
in many ways to get negatives of animals in
their native haunts. In a preceding chapter
I have spoken of the jacklight method, but
I have not mentioned how, at various times
during my career in the woods, I have made
animals take pictures of themselves.

In these instances I set my camera on a trail
and laid a string, attached to the shutter,
across the trail. The camera had been focused
on the spot where the oncoming deer or other
animal would walk against the string. The
creature wandering along presses the string,
releasing the shutter, and you have your nega-
tive. It doesn't matter what kind of an ani-
mal comes along. If it happens to be a man
you will have his picture just the same.

In order to get negatives of the smaller

264 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

animals a different method is used. Bait is
employed. The camera is set at night, and a
string is extended from the machine to a tree.
The string dangles bait just above the ground,
so that when the coon or other small animal
comes to get it it has to rise up and pull hard.
This pull releases a flashlight and the negative
is made.

This same simple method is used in making
animals shoot themselves with a gun. The
string is attached to the hair-trigger, and when
the fox or other animal moves the string the
gun is discharged.

I remember one winter when I was at King,
and Bartlett Camps that I set one of these
guns out on King and Bartlett Lake. The men
in the camp laughed at me and said I might
be able to trap foxes in all kinds of ways but
that it was impossible to make a fox shoot him-
self. Even while we were talking the sound of
a gun came to us from the direction of the
lake. Investigation proved that I had been
correct, because the dead fox on the ice and the
discharged gun told their own story.

A first-class taxidermist is in truth an artist.
I have done much of this work, having mounted
heads and full bodies of animals, together with
hundreds of fish.

NATURE AND ART 265

Here again is another thing a man can do in
the woods without aid or material from the
outside world. Assuming that I was naked
and without tools, as I was during my two
months in the wilderness, and desired to do
some of this work, I would first catch a fish
in the manner I have previously described.
Using the same process that I did with the bear
and the deer, I would remove the skin with
sharp rocks. Next I would find a large splinter
from a broken-down tree, wide enough for a
panel background. In order to catch all the
high lights and make the fish appear natural
I would shape the splintered wood to an oval,
by placing it under water and grinding it down
with a rock. A man can take any piece of wood
and under water grind it to any shape he wants.
When this oval background was ready I would
stick the skin on with the natural glue of the
fish. In spite of the fact that I had used no
instruments from the outside world the ob-
server could not tell the difference between the
mounted specimen and a trout fresh from the
water at a distance of ten feet.

In emphasizing my point about the artist
who lacks the practical, rough side of forest
life not being able to give the true touch to
his pictures, I want to tell a short story about

266 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

the best-natured man I ever met. Unlike the
gentlemen of art who come into the woods to
observe under the most luxurious conditions,
he was satisfied with anything that happened
to be on hand. While he had plenty of money
and paid me well for guiding him, he never
complained. If he had but little to eat he would
say the food was good. If it rained he never
complained.

One day after one of the hardest tramps I
had ever taken we arrived at one of my camps
which I had not seen for over a year. It was
long after dark and we had no time to gather
fir boughs for a bed. Inside the camp were two
bunks, one above the other. No boughs were
in them, nothing but the rough hard boards.

"Well, Frank," I said, "which bunk do you
want?''

"Any one," he answered in his customary
manner.

"You better take the lower one," I said,
"because if you happen to fall out you won't
have so far to fall. "

"All right," he said, and we turned in, he
taking the lower berth and I climbing up to the
one above. The beds were as hard as rocks.

Some time later I was awakened by a noise.
I looked out over my bunk and saw Frank sit-

NATURE AND ART 267

ting on the side of the one below with his head
in his hands.

"What's the matter, can't you sleep?" I
asked him.

Without moving he replied, "Oh, yes. I
have been asleep, but I just thought I would
sit up awhile and rest. After I get rested I
will go back to bed."

If that man had possessed the artistic sense
he could have painted a true picture of outdoor
life. He took everything in the woods as it
was, and in this way learned to feel the spirit
of nature.

Sleeping on planks, skinning one 's own game,
getting one's own meals in the forest are all
just as much a part of the training of an artist
painting out-of-door life as are books and
teachers. Without this rough experience the
fireside artist has a tendency to paint his pic-
tures somewhat on the order of this story:

One night in camp some years ago Andrew
Douglas and I were discussing good shots and
lucky days at hunting. I said to Andrew:

"Andrew, what is the luckiest hunting stunt
you ever pulled off?"

"Well," he began, without a smile on his
face, "it was back in the old days of the muzzle-
loading gun. One day I started out hunting

268 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

ducks. I went down the bank of a stream and
after awhile scared up a flock, which rose from
the water and lit on the limb of a tree. I
tried to get into position to make a clean sweep
of them all, but I could n't seem to do it. So
I went under the tree, and taking aim fired at
the center of the limb on which the ducks sat.

''Of course, as the bullet sped through it
split the limb, but before the ducks could fly
away the split came together again, catching
everyone of them by the toes. While they
were fluttering and trying to get away I loaded
up again and took aim at the butt of the
limb close to the tree. This shot cut the limb off,
and as it fell it dropped into the stream.

''I rushed into the water after it, and finally
caught it, with every duck still attached.
I sogged out of the water with about a score of
fish in the seat of my pants, which had swum
up the legs of my trowsers.

"I remember, just as I made an extra high
step to get a firm footing, one of my suspender-
buttons snapped off, buzzing away from me
like a bullet. A rabbit coming down the
stream to drink got the button right in the eye
and it killed him.

"That was my luckiest day in the way of
hunting. "

CHAPTER XVIII

THE INSIDE STORY OF THE CANADIAN TRIP

Just why did I go to Canada instead of emerg-
ing from the forest on American soil? This
question has interested hundreds since my re-
turn to civilization, but until now I have never
gone into details of the whole story.

It is not my desire to attack anyone or to
show bitterness, and in telling the plain facts
about this trip I shall simply reveal true condi-
tions as they were.

I want to go back a little into the history of
the affair to the time just before I entered the
woods. At that time, while I was in Boston,
I applied through friends to the Fish and Game
Commission of the State of Maine for a permit
to catch or kill what game I might need in carry-
ing out my experiment. These friends explained
that I would pay all fines for the killing of such
animals when I came from the forest.

For a time the commissioners ignored the
application, and, when they did reply, it was to

£70 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

state that it would be impossible to grant my
request.

In the meantime I had discovered that Sec-
tion 17 of the Maine Fish and Game Laws
made it possible for such a permit to be
granted — namely, that the commissioners had
a right to allow game and fish to be obtained
for scientific purposes at any time.

On the strength of this, I applied again to
the commissioners, about ten days later, lay-
ing stress on that section of the law and also
mentioning the fact that noted men were in-
dorsing the experiment. Not until August
fourth, the day I entered the forest, was a
decision reached. I did not see the letter an-
nouncing it until I arrived at Megantic after
my experiment was over.

"Your request for permission to kill animals
and birds in Maine in close season,'' reads this
letter, "was considered by this commission at
a meeting today.

"While we appreciate the inconvenience that
you may be put to, nevertheless, in view of the
fact that your experiences will undoubtedly be
published, if the desired permit was granted, it
would certainly put our Board in the position of
indorsing violations of our Inland Fish and Game
Laws, which we cannot see out way clear to do."

INSIDE STORY OF CANADIAN TRIP 271

No name was signed to that letter, only the
word "Chairman" appearing where the name
of the writer customarily appears.

However, with the knowledge that I had
been refused once, as explained on the prev-
ious page, I went into the woods and tried to
live within the game laws. This made my task
doubly hard. Everybody but the commis-
sioners of my own state were with me. The
manner in which they had acted before I en-
tered the forest naturally made me feel that
they would not hesitate to disturb me after
I had broken the law. I could n't be disturbed,
as that would have spoiled everything.

Among others who met me after I reached
Canada were four State of Maine game war-
dens, and they were all fine men. They as-
sured me that I would have a free passport
through the state. They got in touch with
the commissioners at Augusta, who, through
them, invited me to the Natural History Hall
in the capitol where a reception was to be
held in my honor.

The people of Augusta accorded me a tre-
mendous reception — one that I shall never
forget — and when our party arrived at the
State House hundreds of people had gathered
for the affair.

272 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

First of all I called on the Fish and Game
Commission in the office of the chairman.
Scarcely had the doors closed when a cold-
blooded transaction followed. The chairman
summoned one of his clerks who read off the
various fines attached to the killing of game out
of season. Then I was asked what I had killed.
I gave this information, and the chairman took
down the various things that I mentioned.
Then turning to me he said, "It will cost you
two hundred and five dollars, Mr. Knowles. "

Members of my party stepped up and assured
the commissioners that the fines would be
attended to just as soon as the party arrived
in Boston, and I was escorted into the Natural
History Hall where the people were waiting to
receive me. As I was moving on schedule the
time was very limited, and presently I left the
hall in the waiting automobile in order to keep
an appointment with the mayor and make train
connections for Portland.

As I started through a lane of people through
the street one of the commissioners dashed
down the steps and announced that the chair-
man had decided that I must give bonds before
I left the State House.

"But that matter will be attended to just as
soon as we arrive in Boston," protested the

INSIDE STORY OF CANADIAN TRIP 273

man who was engineering the party. "We are
on schedule, and every minute is precious."

In spite of this the commissioners insisted,
so I went back to the office where the Attor-
ney-general was waiting with the chairman.

"But they are on schedule, Mr. Commis-
sioner, and they haven't got time," said the
Attorney-general.

"We'll make time," declared the chairman
with every ounce of authority that his office
allows.

However, to make a long story short, a
spirited conference followed, and I was al-
lowed to depart to catch my train after I had
affixed my signature to the document that gave
me free passport through Maine. This also
contained a clause to the effect that I would
pay all fines for what game I had killed.

Afterwards two of the commissioners, for
whom I have the highest regard, came to me
and said they were sorry that such a thing
had happened. They told me they had been
in favor of granting me a permit in the first place
but that they had had to give in to the chair-
man of the Board.

Such, through the admission of the majority
of the Board of Fish and Game Commissioners,
is the condition of the State of Maine to-day.

274 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

The majority of the Board is controlled by the
minority.

I suffered more mentally during my last ten
days in the forest than at any other time. This
suffering was not due to the fact that I wanted
to go out before my time was up, but rather be-
cause of a fear that I might be molested by
game wardens before I had lived^my two full
months in the forest.

After I had killed my bear I wondered at vari-
ous times just how the game wardens and the
fish and game commissioners would act.
However, after I had got my deer the thought
was harder to get rid of than it had been
before. I was not conscience-stricken or any-
thing like that. I had only killed game through
sheer necessity. The one paramount thought in
my mind after getting my deer was that the
game wardens would come into the woods and
take me out. Being alone, and having no one
to talk the matter over with, I turned this thing
over and over in my mind. I imagined all kinds
of things. I felt as if I were being hunted. The
thought got hold of me so that I began to neg-
lect myself. I camped anywhere and every-
where. I said to myself, "What is the use of
building a home only to have the game wardens
come along and find me as soon as it is finished? ''

INSroE STORY OF CANADIAN TRIP 275

During those ten days I lived in a state so
that I could move any minute. I wandered
from place to place, always watching for
men who might be after me. And I saw some
men during those days, but they did not see
me. In all I saw four or five. Every strange
sound I heard startled me. I would think,
** There they are again," and I would go back
to my lean-to to see if they had been there.

The idea that I was hunted brought out all the
animal in me. I acted just as a deer would
act. At night I slept in such a way that I
could not be surprised from the rear. In a
word, just as the deer does, I faced my back
tracks. If anyone had approached me I
would have seen him before he could have
seen me.

One afternoon a party of three men passed
within ten feet of where I was hiding. They
were talking about me.

Can the reader imagine how I would have
felt, after having lived two months in the woods
as I have lived, to have come forth from the
forest to meet my friends and have half a
dozen game wardens step up and place me
under arrest, and take my skins away from me?
I said to myself, "I will beat these wardens at
their own game, if possible."

276 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

In the wilderness I had no one to ask advice of.
I had to settle everything for myself. So I be-
gan to reason that if I went to Canada the
wardens would not molest me in any way. I
felt revengeful. I did n't care what the Cana-
dian officials did to me as long as I escaped the
Maine authorities. I would have undergone
anything rather than be taken by game war-
dens in the woods.

After my decision to go to Canada, I knew I
must notify my friends of my intention. The
night I started for Canada I was a little dubious
as to the exact date of the month it might be.
A week before I had lost my calendar stick and
was carrying the days in my head. I knew
I wasn't ahead of time, but was not sure
about being one day late.

Placing on a stump a roll of birch bark
on which I had written that I would meet
my friends on the shore of. Lake Megantic,
Canada, on October fourth, I went back into
the woods. Following a trail to the left to
a point about a mile and a half from the camp
I then swung in, walking straight in through
the camp yard. There was a light in one of the
cabins, and as I passed I could hear the boys
playing cards. Over at one side I saw two
men going up one of the trails with a lantern,

GAME WARDENS ESCORTING THE AUTHOR TO ATTEAN CAMPS AFTER
HIS RETURN TO CIVILIZATION. FROM LEFT TO RIGHT, MR. PEN-
DELTON, MR. COMBER, MR. DURGIN, MR. WILCOX.

INSIDE STORY OF CANADIAN TRIP 277

but they did not see me. I continued on my way
down to the Spencer Stream, which I forded,
and then went on a few miles until I had
crossed the Kibby Stream.

Then I headed up Spotted Spruce Mountain,
where I spent the night. I didn't have any
fire or lean-to. I simply curled up in my bear-
skin at the foot of a tree and slept as best I
could. It had begun to rain hard. My mind
was filled with wardens, and I didn't stop
for anything to eat that night. I remember
that I dreamed for the first time. I thought
that I was talking to someone and in my dream
I would say to myself, "I have gone and
talked with someone, and now it is all off."
Then I would wake up and be mighty glad it
was not true.

I was on my way early in the morning. I
never saw it rain harder. I kept away from the
logging roads and the worn trails, fearing that
such places would be watched. I followed the
natural game trails along the lines of least re-
sistance. I probably went twenty-five miles
farther in this way. I didn't take a direct
course, but swung to the east or north, always
keeping my destination in mind. The moss
on the north side of the trees always told me
where north was.

278 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

From Spotted Spruce I drifted along down
on to the slope of Old Snow Mountain, over
Hurricane Mountain, and farther on to Douglas
Mountain, where half a mile beyond I came
to Douglas Pond. Boundary Mountain was
straight ahead, and I made for it. It was not
until I had crossed the line that I drew my first
free breath. They could n't touch me now!

The rain had n't abated in the slightest, and
again I tried to sleep with my back against a
tree. It was impossible to go on, as I could
not see my hand before my face. I had eaten
once that day — early in the morning — when
I had shot a partridge with my bow and arrow.
Not being able to get a fire in the wet, I had
eaten it raw. I ate nothing that night.

The next day was the fourth of October.
I was not sure of this, believing it might be
Sunday, the fifth. I covered several miles that
morning, and when noon time came it stopped
raining, which was a great relief.

I still had some distance to travel, and after
going on for two or three hours I heard the dis-
tant whistle of a train away off somewhere
ahead. I followed the direction of the sound,
and about four o'clock that afternoon I saw
before me through the trees the tracks of the
Canadian Pacific Railroad.

msroE STORY OF CANADIAN TRIP 279

A tram car, with three men aboard, rolled up
the track. As I came out into the open and saw
them I rushed back in among the trees so that
they wouldn't see me. Then I laughed to
myself when I thought what I had done — I
had simply jumped back out of habit. My
time was up in the forest and I did not need to
fear human beings any more.

Some distance back in the woods I had
donned my skins, not knowing exactly whom I
might meet.

When the tram had passed I came out of the
woods and made my way to the railroad tracks.
There was no one in sight now. I started along
up the track, wondering how the people would
receive me.

Suddenly ahead of me up the track I saw a
little girl of about fourteen years old. She
caught sight of me and stopped stock still.
In spite of what she saw she held her ground
and watched me approach. I would n 't have
blamed her if she had run back just then, be-
cause I must have been an unusual picture in
my skins.

Coming closer I asked her how far it was to
Megantic. A torrent of French greeted me.
I knew a little of the language and put the
question again. She told me Megantic was

280 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

about seven miles farther along. I tell you
the sound of her voice sounded good to
me. She was the first human being I had
spoken to in two months. Rather than con-
tinue on her way, she turned about and
walked down the tracks with me toward
Megantic.

Presently we came to a house situated some
distance back from the railroad. A woman with
about fifteen youngsters came running out to
meet the little girl, who had called to them.
When the youngsters saw me they let out a
yell and scattered like so many partridges.
However, before I went on my way they got
so they approached me timidly, and one or
two of them even reached out and touched
me with their little hands.

Frienie Gerard, for that was the little French
girPs name, told me the train bound for Me-
gantic was very nearly due, and I knew if
I flagged that train I would save myself a whole
lot. Thanking her I once again started up
the track. The sun had come out and the
weather was beautiful.

Presently I turned the bend and came upon
a freight engine puffing on a siding. As I drew
up closer the engineer dropped down from the
cab and came running up to me. "You 're

INSIDE STORY OF CANADIAN TRIP 281

Mr. Knowles, aren't you?*' he asked coming
forward with outstretched hand.

I told him that I was.

"All of Megantic is waiting for you/' he con-
tinued. "Your friends are there, together
with the game wardens of Maine and Canada,
and they have planned a big welcome for you."

In a moment the rest of the train crew had
come running up, and for a few minutes I held
a reception in the middle of the track. Just
as the little French girl had done, they told
me that a passenger would be along any time
now, and said they would flag it.

"Have you got any money to pay your fare
into Megantic with?" asked the engineer.

I laughed and told him the banks in the
woods hadn't been doing business for a long
time. He took a fifty-cent piece out of his
pocket and insisted on my borrowing it. I
accepted the loan and took his name.

By this time the whistle of the passenger
sounded up the track. The train was flagged
and I went into one of the cars where I sank
into a plush seat. It felt mighty good. It
was the first sign of luxury I had experienced in
two months.

Immediately the car was in an uproar. People
from the other cars poured into the one I was

282 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

in and began shaking my hand and asking me
all kinds of questions. I confess I was a bit
muddled hearing all those voices and seeing so
many faces, and to this day I don't remember
what I said or half what they asked.

When the train pulled into Megantic I looked
out of the window and beheld a sea of faces.
When I came down the steps I thought the
crowd would tear the skins from my body.
I had n 't dreamed of such a reception as this.
I don't know who it was, but somebody hustled
me down the main street to the Queen's Hotel.
The streets were choked with humanity, and
I remember looking up and seeing the hotel
decorated from bottom to top with British and
American flags.

Doctor Gregory of the Canadian Parliament
was the first to welcome me. In the midst of a
lot of excitement, in which newspaper men and
townspeople were trying to get at me, I was
hurried upstairs to a hotel room. I saw a bed
over at one side and, stripping off my bear-
skin, I threw myself upon it just to see how
it would feel. It was pretty fine. I don't
know how they got in, but it seemed as if a
hundred men crowded every inch of that room.
And everyone began to fire questions at me.
How far had I walked? — someone wanted to

msroE STORY OF CANADIAN TRIP 283

know. I told him that my trip across to Canada
covered about sixty-five miles, and that I had
done it in two days and two nights.

Nobody asked me if I wanted anything to
eat. However, when I collected my thoughts
I saw that I was smoking a cigarette. I don't
remember taking it or lighting it. Someone
just shoved it into my hand.

One of the party of friends who had been on
hand to greet me pushed through the crowd to
the bed, with four big strapping men behind
him.

"Joe, these are the game wardens of Maine,
who have come up to welcome you and escort
you back through the state," he said.

I want to mention the names of these men
because they proved to be splendid friends to me
on my homeward trip. They were F. J. Durgin,
chief warden of Somerset County; H. O. Tem-
pleton, warden of Franklin County; James Wil-
cox and L. F. Comber, wardens of Somerset
County. They assured me that I would not be
molested on the downward trip, and that they
considered it an honor to be one of the party!

"You ought to have something to eat, Mr.
Knowles," one of them suggested, whereupon a
a doctor in the room, overhearing the remark,
rushed forward holding up his hands in horror

284 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

and said with a quaver in his voice, "This man
can't eat heartily after the diet he has been
living on for two months? He must be most
careful about what he eats."

"Well, he can have a spoonful of milk, can't
he?'' requested someone.

The doctor agreed to that. But as soon as
he had left the room another voice shouted
above the babel, "Gentlemen — Gentlemen!"
The talk subsided. " Gentlemen, here is a man
who has been living in the woods for two months
eating anything he could lay his hands on. He
has just reached us after walking sixty-five miles
through the wilderness without eating a thing
but a raw partridge since yesterday morning.
Would n't it be interesting to see what he orders
for his first meal?"

Everybody thought it would.

I looked around for the doctor, but he had n't
come back. Then I shouted the first thing that
came into my head: "Fried salt pork, potatoes
and tea."

Everybody laughed.

I think I ordered that combination because
it was my first recollection of food back in those
days of poverty years ago. When the order
arrived I gazed with misgiving at a three-legged
table which during the last half -hour had tipped

msroE STORY OF CANADIAN TRIP 285

over no less than a half-dozen times. I saw the
tray containing the food placed on that table and
I made a jump to steady it. Then I looked at
the food. With two bites and one swallow I
could have cleaned everything up. But I was
back in civilization and it was necessary to be
polite, so I nibbled and went on answering
questions.

As to my feelings among all those people, I
was somewhat dazed. I answered them me-
chanically, my mind traveling with race-horse
speed.

I wanted to see the papers and read what
people had been saying about me. This I did
later in the evening, after the room had been
cleared. But even then I had to barricade the
door with furniture.

At half-past one the next morning I left
Megantic en route for Boston by way of the
wilderness.

CHAPTER XIX >

THE FUTURE

The ending of my two months' experiment in
the woods of northern Maine was only the
beginning of an experiment that will, I hope,
lead up to something of international impor-
tance and magnitude.

I have many plans, some more remote than
others; but sometimes during my lifetime I
hope to see them all carried out, for I believe
that such plans worked out will create a new
foundation on which the nation may stand.

Simply because we are a civilized people
does not mean that the days of wilderness
colonization are over.

Within a very few years I hope, with the
cooperation of the United States government,
to be able to establish a colony of men and
women who are interested in this outdoor
movement, where every lover of nature may
live as he wants to and was meant to live.

From the government I hope to obtain
thousands of acres of wild lands which, if not

THE FUTURE 287

utilized, would remain a waste for hundreds
of years.

While I have not perfected my plans at this
early date, I sincerely hope that the project
may be carried out under the Stars and
Stripes.

There are possibilities in the Great Lake
region on the Michigan and Minnesota shores,
and if that land is not available the whole
great Canadian wilds stretch off on the other
side of the lakes, a part of which might be ob-
tained from the Canadian government.

This idea would in no way trespass upon that
of the Forward-to-the-Land Movement. This
colony would be something entirely different
— a colony where the simplest life would be
followed, where men and women would learn
to use the things of nature around them and
nothing else.

My idea is to have this colony a practical
school of nature, where young men may go
for a short time, just as they go to college to
learn things scientific. There is no College of
Nature in the world to-day, and the people of
our times are sadly in need of that branch
of education.

In this colony nothing will be commercial-
ized. Stockbrokers, land grabbers, or timber

288 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

speculators will not be allowed to live there.
There will be no grafting or thieving.

Already many of the most reputable men in
the country — men who have done big things
— are interested in this project. The govern-
ing board of this colony will be made up of such
men. As unprimitive as it may seem, it
would be absolutely necessary to have some
law in such a community; but the laws would
be so simple that they would not interfere with
the independence of man.

It will not be a colony for the immigrant,
but a settlement for the rich and the poor
who desire to learn about the great outdoors
and the animals that live within the forest.

The killing of wild animals would only be
allowed in cases of necessity. If a man needed
filling for snowshoes, hides for moccasins,
or food, he could kill his game ; but only under
such conditions. No game could be sent out-
side of the colony.

• The whole scheme would be one of progres-
siveness, and every man would labor for him-
self. In time of absolute necessity, humanity
would play its part.

I could live among the people and tell them
what I know, and there would be others who
would do the same.

THE FUTURE 289

People who bore the proper credentials from
a board of centralization could live in this
colony a part of the year or the whole
year.

With the proper instruction they would build
their own log cabins in winter, and their lean-
tos in summer.

It will be a purely scientific and educational
movement.

Where do a majority of the people of to-day
go in the summertime?

They go to the crowded summer resorts,
at the seashore and the mountains. They
carry the social whirl along with them, and
when they return after a vacation they are even
more tired than when they went away. What
have they learned? Nothing — because balls,
whist parties, and other games did not give
them time.

In this College of Nature the man rests while
he labors. The life in the outdoors gives him
new health, and every day he lives he will find
new wonders. He will marvel at the compan-
ionship of the wild animal.

All the luxuries of life will be left behind.

There will be no need of the theater. The
forest itself has many comedies, dramas
and tragedies. There will be no demand for

290 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

such amusement. Games will be played, and
they will differ from whist in stuffy rooms.

I think under such conditions the bringing
back of almost extinct blood in horses could
be worked out. There would be great oppor-
tunity to raise the Morgan Horse, which the
United States and Canadian governments are
trying so hard to get. This horse is known as
the American Arab, and is the hardiest and
speediest known. In such a country they
would thrive.

I am convinced that such a College of Nature
would result in a marked change in child
literature. Through the books which would
be written the child would come to love the
woods rather than to fear them.

It would be my intention, while the life in
this colony was progressing, to furnish the out-
side world with reports of the work and the
methods used. Such material would play its
part along educational lines. It could be used
in the regular public-school curriculum with
powerful effect, and the something that is now
lacking in our school system would be estab-
lished.

It is all very well to dissect a flower in the
classroom, and to demonstrate the fact that
the intestines of a clam run through its hearty

A PORTION OF THE CROWD THAT GREETED JOSEPH KNOWLES ON HIS
ARRIVAL IN BOSTON, OCTOBER 9, 1913

THE FUTURE 291

but such education is useless unless the student
knows what the smell of earth is like, and unless
he knows what it is to wade up to his knees in
the cold mud and dig for clams.

Fundamental training is the necessary thing
that is lacking to-day.

Even the trade school lacks these funda-
mentals. The boy stud)dng to be a carpenter
would be a better carpenter if he first lived in the
woods and understood just how much a tree
will do for man. In the trade school the boy
makes something out of what he has. He does
not think back of that. He does not realize
that the wood makes fire for him, that the fire
can be used as tools, that the tree even produces
food. He would learn a value of woods such as
he could never learn in the schoolroom, and
knowing that value he could work more eco-
nomically and produce better work.

I never realized until after I came from the
woods how very little the average person seems
to know about the forest and the things therein.
The constant deluge of most ordinary ques-
tions which I have every day makes me marvel
at the ignorance that exists concerning this
vital subject. I have come to believe that the
average man and woman has no conception
of the forest life.

292 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

Coming down from Canada through the
wilderness of northern Maine there was a news-
paper man, who had seen much of life, in the
party. Sailing down the streams or walking
along the trails, he would go into ecstasies
whenever a deer appeared in the distance. It
was the same when ducks rose from under the
alders or when a bear ran away into the woods
ahead.

This man had traveled much. He had met
the biggest men in the country, and was a man
of affairs, yet he was like a child there in the for-
est. He was seeing something he had never seen
before — something he had only read about.

This College of Nature, which I hope to es-
tablish, will teach man the things he has
missed in the rush of twentieth-century life.

As I stated in the very first chapter of this
book, in carrying out my two months' experi-
ment in the wilderness I did not do a wonderful
thing. I repeat that any man of reasonable
health could have done exactly what I did.

Men of the woods, who know, do not think
it so wonderful. Yet there are hundreds who
are constantly telling me what a wonderful
thing it was. Together with these, there are
those who, not understanding wood life, dis-
believe my stories outright.

THE FUTURE 293

For the benefit of this last class I propose,
in the near future, to make a second experiment
in the forest like the first. Just as I did on
August fourth, 19 13, I will enter the forest
naked and without food or implements of any-
kind to aid me, and will rehearse my experi-
ment all over again so far as living on my own
resources is concerned.

However, on this second trip I will add some-
thing. In order to convince the people who
cannot understand at present, I will allow a
dozen representative men to accompany me and
watch me live the primitive life. These men
may enjoy the comforts of camp life- and ob-
serve me constantly.

Of course if I am to get a deer with my hands,
as I did the last time, these men must let me
go and get it undisturbed. A dozen men
could n't lie around watching me do this. But
with such freedom of hunting as would be ab-
solutely necessary, the observers would be
able to keep strict tabs upon me every day of
the experiment.

Such a trip will be conclusive proof.

I will guarantee on this second experiment
to get myself in a condition to meet any change
of climate in spring, summer, fall, and winter.

If the Maine game and fish commissioners

294 ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS

refuse me a permit a second time to kill what
game I need for the experiment, I will demon-
strate the life in Canada, where I shall have
no trouble in this respect.

I made up my mind to tr}^ this second experi-
ment even before I reached Boston on my way
from the wilderness after my first one. It was
at a banquet at Portland that a man came up,
and, shaking my hand, said:

"Mr. Knowles, I want to congratulate you on
the remarkable thing you have done. '' It was
the same thing over again, and I couldn't
help inwardly smiling at the word "remarkable."
*^I want you to know," the man continued,
" that I believe in you, but there are some at this
banquet to-night who are skeptical."

"Well, that is their privilege," I answered.

This phase of it hadn't come to my mind
before, and the idea of the second trip imme-
diately occurred to me.

I decided then that I would make it, in order
to convince everybody; and I will!

In the meantime I have not forgotten my
art. In the rush of many duties this life-
work of mine is only neglected, but not for-
gotten. I look forward with new spirit and feel-
ing to getting to work again in my studio.

My experiment gave me many new ideas

THE FUTURE 295

and much practical knowledge that I never
possessed before about art.

In conclusion let me appeal to every man,
woman, and child to take advantage of the
wonderful bounty that nature offers. Let them
study the greatest textbook of all — the open
book of nature. Let them find health and char-
acter and happiness among the trees of the
forest and in the great outdoors. Let them
understand the wild creatures, who have souls
like themselves. Let them abandon all things
artificial and really live. Let them answer
the call of the natural mother — she has
blessings untold to bestow. In a word, let
humanity be born again.

Wordsworth has said truly:

"Nature never did betray the heart that loved her."

H)

RETURN. CIRCULATION DEPARTMENT

TO— #> 202 Main Librory

LOAN PERIOD 1
HOME USE

2

3

4

5

6

ALL BOOKS MAY BE RECALLED AFTER 7 DAYS

1 -month loans may be renewed by calling 642-3405

6-month loans may be recharged by bringing books to Circulation Desk

Renewals and recharges may be made 4 days prior to due date

DUE AS STAMPED BELOW

rec'drirn HflRlS ISil

frf^fri^iaa

AUTO DISC MAR, 2 9 ]9g)

INTERLIBRARYDAN

APR .13 198 a

uwrv.OFmtF..t£fit;

JULI^Z^

=r^V-

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, BERKELEY
FORM NO. DD6, 60m, 12/80 BERKELEY, CA 94720

LD 2lA-40m-4,'63
(D6471sl0)476B

University of California I

Berkeley |

UC. BERKELEY LIBRARIES

€001,7^7034

YB 16018

Z9nO'S2

Si.

/f6

THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY

f^

nul3